


With Careful Hands and A Strong Chin

by oceanwideopen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brother-Sister Relationships, Character Death, Doran is stillborn, Elia is Alive, Female Friendship, Graphic Description, House Martell, Kingsguard, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Romance, Sorry!, Unrequited Love, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-04-11 15:29:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 53,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4441256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceanwideopen/pseuds/oceanwideopen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elia was a small little thing and she lived, by the Mother’s mercy. She was delicate and quiet, but when her little fingers gripped and tugged on Arielle’s finger, she knew that her daughter was meant to be her heir. She will be the embodiment of House Martell. She will represent our words. Unbowed, unbent, unbroken can be seen in Elia’s dark eyes.</p>
<p>AU in which Doran is a stillborn baby, Elia is her mother's heir and Arthur Dayne is not part of the Kingsguard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Princess of Summer

**Author's Note:**

> There will be changes made by me as I go along, so lets just go with it.

Arielle prayed to the Mother for a healthy baby as she was once again sent to the birthing bed. She has already lost Doran, Mors and Olyvar, she does not wish to lose this baby as well.

“The young lad must be eager to meet his mother,” said her brother as the wet-nurse wipes her forehead. The babe was no lad.

Elia was a small little thing and she lived, by the Mother’s mercy. She was delicate and quiet, but when her little fingers gripped and tugged on Arielle’s finger, she knew that her daughter was meant to be her heir. She will be the embodiment of House Martell. She will represent our words. _Unbowed, unbent, unbroken_ can be seen in Elia’s dark eyes. 

 

* * *

 

Elia grows up to be The Princess of Summer, a term coined by the smallfolk who already love Elia. She captured their hearts with a few small words and kind manners.

Arielle smiles at her daughter as she splashes around at The Water Gardens, surrounded by her brother and many other children. Elia helps tiny and feisty little Oberyn to his shaky legs and they run around, chasing the other children.

Everyone is the same here. This was one of the first lessons Arielle teaches her daughter. 

 

* * *

 

“Elia, this is Ashara Dayne of Starfall,” Arielle introduces the two girls.

Ashara, clad in a light purple dress, dips down to a small curtsy before Elia stops her. Elia smiles kindly at her before offering to accompany her around the pool. Ashara Dayne is beautiful with her glossy black hair and violet eyes. She is quiet and doubtful when Elia shows her the children splashing around each other and take a seat beneath a shaded tree. She spots Oberyn tackling an older boy to the ground and lets out a small laugh at the sight of her brother.

“That’s Oberyn on top of the merchant’s son,” said Elia, pointing him out for Ashara. “He is very small but believes he can take anyone, even all of the Kingsguard at once.”

Ashara smiles at the picture. “Your family seems very nice, Princess.”

“Do you miss your family?”

“I miss my brother more. His name is Arthur and father said that he didn’t need to leave home.”

Elia purses her lips together at that statement. She then puts her hand on top of Ashara’s and says, “You are my companion now, Lady Ashara, and I am excited for us to be friends.”

Ashara smiles at her and her violet eyes light up. 

 

* * *

 

The feast held for the Daynes was not the biggest Princess Arielle has hosted, but Ashara treated it as so. She wore the dress Elia gave to her as a gift for her last nameday. It was a white silk dress and she wore her hair up in the most elegant way she could muster it to be. The Lady of Dorne and her mother were very close friends when they were younger and they could not wait to see one another again, but Ashara was more excited for the arrival of her brother. Elia laughs and teases her about Arthur while poking fun at Oberyn all the same.

Elia wears a light, silk red dress as her thick, black hair falls in waves over her shoulders. Ashara thinks the world of her Princess and thinks she is beautiful, more beautiful than herself with her kind heart towards everyone.

Ashara stands beside Elia as she sees her family come closer to the castle. She hasn’t seen her brother in a few short years and he has changed. He is taller now and more handsome than their older brother at six and ten. He is almost old enough to wield Dawn.

Elenei and Arielle share kind words before embracing each other. Arielle than introduces Elia and Oberyn and Ashara is finally face to face with her mother. Elenei was still beautiful, but she has aged greatly and her dark eyes were clearly worn out. Their relationship has always been strained, as Elenei would always take Allor’s side in every argument Ashara would have with her father, as well as Elenei’s many miscarriages and stillborns that would refrain her from spending time with Ashara.

“Mother,” said Ashara, dipping her head a little. “It is good to see you again after such a long time. I hope the journey to Sunspear was swift and with ease.”

Elenei smiled at her. “It was fine, Ashara. It is good to see you as well.” She hugged Ashara and kissed her forehead. “Your father could not be here, he is not feeling well, but he sends his regards and love for you.”

“I will pray for father’s health.”

“As do I,” said Elenei. She then turned back to Arielle who said, “Let’s go inside, my friend. I will show you to your chambers.”

They enter the castle as Allan and Arthur move forward. Allan, once handsome and kind, gives Ashara a quick hug before walking into the castle himself, following Arielle and Elenei with his companion. Once Allan is gone, Ashara and Arthur embrace, holding each other close as Elia and Oberyn stand off to the side, watching them.

Oberyn coughs loudly, without any subtlety whatsoever. Ashara and Arthur let go of each other and smile.

“I have missed your, brother.”

“And I you, sister.”

Arthur kisses her cheek before she leads him towards the Prince and Princess.

“Arthur, this is Prince Oberyn and Princess Elia, the heir to Sunspear and the future ruling Princess of Dorne.”

Arthur gives Oberyn a small curtsy before turning his eyes on Elia, who gives him a small smile and dips her head a little. Ashara sees something change in Arthur, but says nothing as the four of them enter the castle together. 

 

* * *

 

Arthur watches Princess Elia in the corner of his eyes. There is certainly something about her that draws the eye. She is beautiful at five and ten and is more radiant than the sun itself. She is kind, too kind as she shows Arthur around the castle while their siblings run off somewhere.

He has already been in Sunspear for more than a moon’s turn before he finally gets the courage to ask her out for a moonlight walk. His mother and brother left a long time ago and he was due to be back home soon. He wanted his small moment with the Princess before leaving.

The sky was full of stars and the wind was still hot in Dorne as they took a walk under the moon.

“I am sorry that you are leaving tomorrow, Arthur,” said Elia.

“I am sorry to leave Sunspear too, my Princess,” said Arthur.

“How many times have I insisted on you calling me Elia?”

Arthur smiles at her. “Too many times, my Prin – Elia.”

Elia raises her eyebrows. “Your Elia?”

Arthur blushes. “That’s – that’s not what I meant, my Princess, purely a mistake, a simple –“

Elia laughs. “Oh, Arthur, it is fine. But please do call me Elia. I consider you my friend, don’t you?”

“Aye, Elia. I am sorry to be missing your nameday celebration, Elia. I hope that it will be everything you wish for.”

“I hope so too, but I fear that the celebrations might be short lived.”

“How so?”

“My mother has been bringing up name for potential husbands. She seems determined to have me married soon after my nameday.”

Arthur’s heart sinks to the pit of his stomach, thinking about another man becoming Princess Elia Martell’s husband. Sharing kisses and touches and becoming one together.

“But she is letting me choose who I wish to marry, a small consolation it maybe,” said Elia.

Arthur nods along with her words but says nothing. There is nothing he wished to say other than _Pick me. Marry me. I will take care of you. I will love you with every ounce of my body until the last of my days. I will treat you like a queen, my princess_.

But he said nothing and they walked in silence all the way up to the castle. 

 

* * *

 

Elia tries her best to listen to her mother as she lists off potential suitors for her to marry, but Oberyn sits beside Arielle with a frown and dismisses them all while Ashara sat beside her, something Elia insisted on. She was the only one that was quiet and payed rapid attention to Arielle Martell.

“Rickard Stark has two boys, Brandon and Eddard,” said Arielle. “He might agree to the betrothal with his second son if he is willing to let that boy travel south. He could be a Prince of Dorne.”

Oberyn snorted loudly. “He’s barely a boy, mother. Rickard Stark would rather Elia go north than have one of his pups travel to Dorne. She would not survive a single winter. What about the Lannister boy?”

“Joanna’s son?” asked Arielle. “No.”

“No?” asked Elia, curious.

Arielle turned to face her daughter. “You are the future ruling Princess of Dorne. Tywin Lannister, even if he does accept our offer, would rather have you be Lady Lannister in the Rock than have his son come to Dorne and I will not let that happen. You are worth more than that, Elia. You are a Princess of Dorne, you will be a Princess of Dorne until the end of your days, do you understand?”

Elia gave her a small smile. “Yes, mother.”

“There is always a Tyrell to spare,” said Oberyn.

Arielle Martell sent him out of the room as Elia laughed at the thought. 

 

* * *

 

“You could marry my brother,” said Ashara as they were getting ready for bed. Elia was now brushing Ashara’s hair as she was working on a tangle.

“I don’t think Allan would quite like the idea of you trying to set us up,” said Elia, smiling at Ashara. “Especially since his betrothal with Tarra Blackmont was announced.”

Ashara rolled her eyes. “You know I mean Arthur.”

Elia’s strokes became softer before she slowly set the brush down.

“I know you and Arthur write to each other as often as can be,” said Ashara. “I think the two of you would make a fine match. I would like to see Arthur in Martell colours.”

Elia laughs. “Arthur is a fine man but I doubt he would want to marry me. He is too busy training and helping Allan with his duties.”

Ashara purses her lips together and holds Elia’s hands with hers. “I just… I just wish you were my sister. Is that so terrible?”

Elia smiles at her once more. “Your blood might be of House Dayne, but you are a Martell, just as much as me or Oberyn. I do not need to marry Arthur to be your sister when I already am your sister.” She kisses Ashara’s cheek. “And you can always marry Oberyn if you desire so.”

Ashara snorted just before getting into bed with Elia that night. 

 

* * *

 

Arthur writes letters to the Princess every chance he gets. He tells her of his training, how Dawn feels like it always belonged to him, how helping his brother run their castle keeps him busy while Allan spends time with his new wife. Elia writes back, telling him of her mother’s lessons and their many discussions of potential marriages. His chest shrinks a little every time he reads it. She also writes about Oberyn and his travels and learning that he now has a daughter from Oldtown, and a possible one in Volantis. She writes about Ashara and her many adventures around Sunspear and getting to know the smallfolk.

He tries very hard to write to Princess Arielle to ask her for Elia’s hand in marriage. But no noblewoman would let her daughter marry someone of lesser born. 

 

* * *

 

Word comes from outside Dorne of King Aerys looking for a suitable noblewoman for his son, Prince Rhaegar. The Queen has not yet birthed the King a daughter and he is forced to look elsewhere, including outside of Westeros, though it has led to the death of Steffon and Cassana Baratheon.

Oberyn comes back with another daughter from Volantis when word comes that Aerys is interested in marrying his son with Elia.

“No.” That was the first thing to come out of Oberyn’s mouth.

“Oberyn,” scolded Arielle.

“The Targaryens are all mad, you know this, mother,” said Oberyn, raging. “You send her as a bride for The Mad King and you might as well send her to her grave!”

“Oberyn!” yelled Arielle, standing up. Her face was twisted into a scowl and she looked just as fierce as a dragon and as deadly as Queen Nymeria herself. Oberyn’s dark eyes widened for a moment, but he stood his ground, preparing to fight for the safety of his sister. “If you had bothered to let me continue,” began Arielle, her voice steady and calm, “you would know that I had talked to Elia about this and she agrees with me. You sister is not going to marry Rhaegar Targaryen. Aerys did not take too well with our rejection.” Ariella sighed. “I fear for Rhaella, knowing what her husband could do to her.”

“Who has King Aerys betrothed his son to then?”

“Tywin Lannister has offered the hand of his daughter, but I’ve heard that the King is thinking about Lyanna Stark instead. Nothing is sure, though.”

“The girl has barely seen ten namedays.”

“That does not matter to the King.”

Oberyn nodded, but thankful that his sister was not going to be whisked away to the mad dragons.

“And Elia still turns down all the suitors you put before her?” asked Oberyn.

Arielle nodded solemnly. “Every last one of them.”

“Maybe you are looking at all the wrong places, mother.”

Arielle was confused before Oberyn began to explain everything to her. 

 

* * *

 

Arielle, Elia, Oberyn, and the rest of their company travel north to Lannisport for the tourney in honour of Prince Viserys’s birth, held by Tywin Lannister himself. The trip nearly drains Elia, but she holds her head up as they ride into Lannisport. She will not appear weak in front of the Lannisters and these northern people.

There was a huge difference in appearance between the northerners and Dorne. While many of ladies giggles and whispered with each other, Ashara and many of other Dornish ladies talked aloud and freely with each other. They dressed in plain colours and their food was bland while Elia mourned for spices and lively music from Dorne.

Arthur Dayne rides into Lannisport a few days late as he was held up back at Starfall to oversee some business. He rode on his white steed with Dawn on his back as many of the woman marveled at his blond hair that was cut short and violet eyes and handsome face.

He grew up so much in the years since Elia has last seen him. She had been so busy with her duties around the castle as well as taking over some of her mother’s duties and he was busy help his brother out while he and his wife grieve together after a miscarriage. His shoulders were broader, he was taller and he walked with more confidence and Dawn looked natural on his hip. Elia couldn’t stop glancing at him from across the hall in the dining hall. The music was a little more upbeat as Oberyn and Ashara spun around in circles while Ariella danced with Tywin, though neither one of them looked happy. Though Arielle and Joanna Lannister might have once been friends, there appears to be no warmth between the ruling Princess of Dorne and the Old Lion of the Rock.

“Princess Elia,” said someone behind her. Elia took her eyes off her mother and turned behind her to see Prince Rhaegar standing there. He was tall and handsome as everybody says, especially with his indigo eyes that stood out against his silver hair. “Would you do me the honour of a dance?”

Elia smiled kindly and stood up, giving him her hand. “The honour would me mine, Prince Rhaegar.”

“You may call me Rhaegar, Princess,” he said as he held her gracefully on the dance floor.

“And you must call me Elia, then.”

“Very well, Elia.”

He spun her around once and all eyes were on them. They do make a beautiful pair, the prince and the princess. Rhaegar with his handsome features and Elia with her delicate ones. Elia could see herself marrying the Prince, for not love but for the beauty between them. They would make beautiful babies, but she then catches a glimpse of King Aerys and those thoughts vanish. To marry the Prince was to marry the King and Westeros and leave Dorne forever. No, she would much rather admire the Prince for now and forget about it these thoughts later.

“I will admit, Elia, I do not know much of Dorne or your customs. I have not travelled that far down south.”

“I have not travelled this far up north, and I don’t plan on doing so in the near future, Rhaegar.”

“How so?” asked Rhaegar, a small smile appearing on his lips.

“I do not think I was built for the north or its people. I would much prefer Dorne and its warmth.”

“There is warmth in King’s Landing, Princess.”

“Are you hinting at something, my Prince?”

“Nothing at all, Princess.”

Elia gave him a small smile as the music ends and they have started a new song.  Someone taps lightly on Rhaegar’s shoulder and they turn to face Arthur Dayne.

“I hope I do not intrude, but would you mind if I dance with the Princess as well, my Prince?”

“If the Princess wishes to as well.”

“That would be fine,” said Elia as Arthur took her hand for a dance. Rhaegar walked towards Cersei Lannister for a dance, who looked positively pleased at the request.

“It’s good to see you again, Ser Arthur,” said Elia as Arthur held her close.

“Likewise, Princess,” said Arthur.

“I heard about your knight ship. Congratulations.”

“It happened many a nights ago, Princess, and you already sent me your wishes with your letter.” Arthur licked his lips for a moment before asking, “I hope I did not intrude on you and the Prince.”

“You did no such thing, Arthur. It is a pleasure to dance with you.”

“And you… Elia.” Arthur spun her around a few times as everybody looked at them.

While she and Rhaegar looked like a beautiful pair, she and Arthur were absolutely striking. Arthur is light with his blond hair, though darker than the Prince’s, and bright violet eyes, while Elia is night with her golden skin and dark eyes. He held her close and gracefully as she catches her mother looking at them.

She worries that Arielle would rather her dance with the Prince rather than Arthur, but she can feel Arthur’s breath so close to her that all worries about Arielle leave her mind. Today, she is not her mother’s heir that has to worry about what everybody thinks. Today she is just a princess that is dancing with a knight. It was something from a song. 

 

* * *

 

The tourney itself was exciting. The newly knighted Prince Rhaegar unhorsed many Lannisters and several other knights while Arthur took out every one of his opponents with ease. The smallfolk’s cheer were like thunder that echoed off Casterly Rock as Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Ser Arthur Dayne met in the last joust.

Elia sat beside Arielle and Ashara throughout the tourney as they watched knight after knight after knight fall to the dirt.

“He is a fine man, Arthur Dayne,” Arielle whispered towards her. “A fine man that clearly holds you in high regards.”

“I suppose so,” said Elia, nonchalantly, trying not to give anything away to Arielle.  

Arthur and Rhaegar both lower their visors and soon ride at each other. Within seconds, Prince Rhaegar falls from his saddle while Lannisport erupts into cheers for Ser Arthur and King Aerys claps slowly and grumbles. Ashara cheers for her brother and all the Dornish people stand for the champion.

Arthur Dayne is a fine young man and they have stayed in touch through all those years they didn’t see each other. He is as kind as he is handsome and talented with a lance and Dawn. He _would_ make a fine husband to a young lady one day, maybe even her if he wishes as much as she does. She wouldn’t mind seeing him in Martell colours or having a child with those violet eyes.

Arthur Dayne trots his steed towards her and lays a crown of summer roses on her lap.

“I hope you accept the title of Queen of Love and Beauty, Princess Elia of House Martell,” Arthur says loudly. His voice carries over the whispers and amongst the crowd.

Elia dips her head in a small curtsy. “I do, Ser Arthur Dayne.” She wears the crown as the crowd erupts into loud, thunderous cheers as the summer roses suit the future ruling Princess of Dorne.

Arthur smiles at her as he rides his steed away to tend to him. Ashara leans over to kiss her cheek while Oberyn boosts about the ability of knights from Dorne to all those that can hear. Arielle smiles at Elia knowingly as the crowd quietens down when King Aerys stand up to address them all. He truly looked mad with his beard that started to go past his chest and his long nails that scratched against his chair as he stood up. While Arthur’s violet eyes were kind and Rhaegar’s were light, Aerys were dark and full malice. He surveyed them all before he began to speak.

“My lords and my ladies, this was a fine tournament, was it not?” He spoke loudly as the crowd clapped and whistled. “Congratulations to Ser Arthur Dayne of Starfall for winning the tourney against my son, Rhaegar, and congratulations to Princess Elia Martell as well!” The crowd clapped once again. “We are here to celebrate the birth of my second son, Prince Viserys Targaryen, and I am now proud to announce the betrothal of my son Rhaegar to Rickard Stark’s daughter, Lyanna Stark!”

The crowd cheered once again at the announcement that the Prince will soon marry a highborn lady. Elia looked towards Tywin Lannister, whose face became hard at the announcement, and his daughter, Cersei, who stood up and soon left, possibly in tears. Elia knew that the Lannister’s were hoping for a royal match with the Prince, but, alas, it will be the young she-wolf that will be a princess.

Elia did not care for who will one day rule Westeros. Targaryen, Lannister, Stark, Tyrell, it did not matter much to her. They were all the same to her. She was much happier in Dorne with her family.

 


	2. One Flesh, One Heart, One Soul

The betrothal between Elia of House Martell and Arthur of House Dayne was set and simple. There will be an exchange of cloaks, but it will be Elia that will bring Arthur under her protection and the protection of House Martell. Elia will still be Arielle’s heir and Arthur will be the Prince Consort of Dorne once she ascends into her title. He will be her husband, her companion, her friend and she was quite happy with the arrangements, as Arthur was as well.

Arthur knew that he could not offer much to Elia while being the second son of a lesser house. He could only offer a few scrapes of land and a couple soldiers and swords, but that was not much. Princess Elia deserves better, and with this marriage, she will get it.

Over the next few months as Princess Arielle and Elenei and Oberyn prepared for the wedding and feast while Elia took over more of her mother’s duties and Arthur prepared to make the move to Sunspear. 

* * *

 

On the morning of the wedding, Elia’s ladies-in-waiting filled her tub with steaming hot water and scrubbed her from head to toe, though there were times when she wanted to snap at them to slow down, that the ceremony would not be for some time, that they would wait for _her_ to begin. When Elia was dried, Ashara sent the other ladies away as she brushed and curled Elia’s black hair, so that it would fall down her back in soft waves, and dabbed some flower fragrance behind her ears and a little on her neck.

Arielle and Elenei arrived shortly before the seamstress did, Arielle with a small chest box. Elenei and Ashara helped the seamstress while Arielle watched with sharp eyes. Elia’s gown is the finest red Myrish silk with the hems a light gold. The skirts were long and full. It is just as long as Ashara is tall! It was a woman’s gown and Arielle made sure of it.

“You are very beautiful, my lady,” said the seamstress when she was done.

“Princess,” corrected Arielle with a small hiss and distaste in her tone.

“Many apologizes, my princess,” said the seamstress with a small dip.

“You look very lovely,” said Elenei, beaming at Elia. She looked happy and proud that her son was to marry her.

“My brother is lucky to be marrying you, Elia,” said Ashara, smiling at her. “And I am lucky and fortunate to be your sister in a few short moments.”

Elia laughed with joy and spun around, her skirts swirling and flying around her. Ashara tusked at her as she messed her hair up a little, but Elia did not mind. She was oblivious and cheerful. She could not wait for Arthur to see her. He will love her all over again.

Arielle opened her small chest box and took out a golden necklace with a red ruby in the center of it. “I wore this when I married your father, and I believe you should wear this when you marry Arthur. It would look quite nice on you.”

“Thank you, mother,” said Elia.

The necklace hung from her neck nicely as Arielle nodded in approval. “Her cloak, now.”

The seamstress came forward with a long cloak of Martell red and gold with jewels embodied on it, surrounding the sun and spear. She was to give this to Arthur, to fastened around his neck and bring him under the protection of House Martell.  Elia ran her hand on the fabric, feeling the softness as she took it into her arms.

She takes one last look at the cloak, at her gown and turns back to her mother. “I am ready.” 

* * *

 

Arielle surveyed the crowd in the great sept. The lords and ladies of Dorne were in attendance, each looking happy to see their Princess marry a great knight, especially a Dornish knight as renowned as Arthur Dayne.

Some of the lords and ladies of the Seven Kingdoms were in attendance as well, though not many as they did not want to bare the heat of Dorne. Tywin Lannister was not there, but he sent his brother, Kevan, in his absence, though she did not mind. He was there with his sister, Genna, and few squires. Mace Tyrell was in attendance with his oldest son, Willas, as his wife was still resting after the birth of another son. Lord Tyrell did not look too happy to be around such Dornish men and women, but his young son looked positively delighted. She suspects that they will leave soon after the ceremony and she cannot wait to see that oaf go away from Dorne.

The guest she was most happy to see was Rhaegar Targaryen, though her dear friend could not come. Rhaegar stood tall and smiled kindly at Arielle as their eyes met, but once the doors to the sept opened, all eyes turned to Elia and Arthur walking towards the marriage altar, where the septon waited between the Mother and the Father. Elia smiled kindly at the guests, as a Princess of Dorne should, and Arthur kept glancing at her, as though she was the most single spectacular thing in the whole Seven Kingdoms. The boy loves Elia. Arielle was sure that there was no other man that could love or take care of Elia like Arthur Dayne.

The ceremony passed as Arielle watched Elia, Arthur and Rhaegar Targaryen. The crowned Prince looked somber and almost sad as Elia wrapped her cloak of her protection over Arthur’s shoulders and tenderly kissed his cheeks as she fastened the clasp. Why was the Prince sad? Though Arielle knows from Rhaella that Rhaegar was serious and solemn most of the time, she thought that a wedding would make him lively. Could it be because of Elia? They shared a dance, but that was many moons turns ago, and there have been whispers, especially after the dance, that the Prince was fond of Elia, that he thought of breaking his betrothal with Lyanna Stark to marry Princess Elia. But those were only whispers. Looking at Rhaegar Targaryen now, she wonders how much of it was true.

“With this kiss I pledge my love, and take you for my Princess and wife,” said Arthur, smiling at Elia, looking at her as though she were a goddess.

“With this kiss I pledge my love, and take you for my Prince and husband,” said Elia. She leaned forward and their lips touched.

“Here in the sight of gods and men,” said the septon, “I do solemnly proclaim Elia of House Martell and Arthur of House Dayne to be man and wife, one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever, and cursed be the one who comes between them.”

The lords and ladies burst into applause with the announcement and Arielle looked to see Rhaegar smile sadly at the pair.  

* * *

 

The feast was held in The Great Hall of Sunspear. Elia and Arthur sat at the high table with Arielle and Oberyn beside Elia, and Elenei, Ashara and Allan beside Arthur. Tarra Dayne was currently resting in her bedchambers as she was still getting over a fever and the ceremony did take a small toll on her. Rhaegar Targaryen, though was offered to sit beside Elia, insisted on sitting beside Oberyn at the end of the table. Arielle turned to see that the Prince drank little and barely touched his food. He listened whenever someone rose to make a toast, but always looked towards Elia for her reaction. She laughed and smiled at everyone and beamed at Ashara and Oberyn after their toasts.

When he musicians began to play, Elia and Arthur began to lead the dance as Ashara and Oberyn followed suit, as did the other guests. Arielle often thought of this day and how much Elia would smile at her husband and whisper kind words to him.

“May I have this dance, Princess Arielle?”

Arielle gave her hand to Rhaegar Targaryen as the music changed.

“The ceremony was lovely, Princess. I shall pray to the Seven that this marriage is a happy one.” Rhaegar hesitates before saying, “Your daughter deserves as much.”

“Thank you for your kind regards, Prince Rhaegar. I am sure Elia will be very happy with Arthur. He is a fine young man, a valiant knight of Dorne, and he loves her dearly. I surely hope that nobody,” Arielle narrows her eyes at him slowly as he glances at Elia, “comes between them. After all, the Gods are watching over us, and as the septon said, ‘cursed be the one that comes between them’.”

Rhaegar looks at Arielle, who stood up straight and proud for the current ruling Princess of Dorne, crowned Prince be damned. “So I take it you’ve heard some of the whispers,” said Rhaegar.

“Aye, I have,” said Arielle as they continued to dance. “I only thought of them as whispers before I saw you standing in my great sept.”

“How did I look, Arielle?” Gone were the pleasantries of their conversation.

“Like you wanted to wrap the Targaryen cloak around Elia and bring her under your protection. Tell me, Rhaegar, your father did not want you to marry my daughter, did he?”

Rhaegar sighed. “I persuaded him to ask, reminding him of the long history between House Targaryen and House Martell, reminding him of Mariah Martell and Daeron the Good and how the Martells have dragon blood within them through Princess Daenerys.” Rhaegar looked defeated. “I have come to admire your daughter. I hear talks of her, of how she manages your household with ease, how she has taken over some of your duties, and how the smallfolk admire and love her in Dorne. If I may say, Princess, Elia would have made a fine Queen of Westeros one day. But she would be a better Princess of Dorne when the day comes.”

Arielle nodded. “Thank you, Prince Rhaegar. I hope that my daughter finds happiness in her marriage and in her pending rule as the ruling Princess of Dorne.”

The music changed as Rhaegar said, “I hope she does, my lady. Thank you for the dance.” He turned and swiftly began to dance with Alyse Ladybright.

Arielle goes back and sits down at her seat. From there she watches Oberyn dance with Lord Uller’s daughter, Ellaria Sand, and Elia dance with Lord Gargalen while Arthur dances with his sister.

The music changes every so often before Arielle decides to stand up as another song dies down. “My lords and my ladies, this night has been wonderful, has it not?” They cheered and clapped in response. “But the night has not ended quite yet. I think it’s time for them for them to head off into bed while the rest of us continue to celebrate in their honour!”

The lords and ladies cheered as Elia and Arthur, hand in hand, left the hall for their bedding while they stayed back to drink and dance in their name. Arielle would be damned if she let the bedding ceremony happen, especially with all those older lords waiting to see what was under Elia’s gown.

Rhaegar turns to her curiously. They looked at each other briefly before he turned away. The crown prince was looming in her mind. If Rhaegar starts any trouble with Elia or Arthur, he will have the spear of Dorne to answer to, Arielle would make sure of it, royalty or not. They did not submit to the dragons when they arrived in Westeros all those years ago and they will not do so now. 

* * *

 

Elia and Arthur ran through the halls with the giddiness and the feel of being a child once more. They could not stop laughing. There were quite a few ladies that wished to undress Arthur Dayne, to truly see who wielded Dawn, while many lords were itching to touch Princess Elia Martell.

They stopped just outside the new chambers Arielle had made up for them. It was bigger and more spacious for the two of them to share for many nights to come. Candles were lit around the room and rose petals on top of the bed.

Elia walked towards the window, looking at the moonlight shining above Dorne. She remembered walking with Arthur just before he left for Starfall. What a perfect moment that was, she hoped this one was as well. She turned to see Arthur looking at her with love and admiration. She slowly walked over to him and kissed him. His hands were on her shoulders while hers were on his chest.

“Let me,” she whispers as she helps him out of his robes while he soon returned the favour and did the same for her. He was gentle as could be and her skin tingled at his touch. They soon kissed again before backing up into their bed. She laid down on the soft bed as Arthur crawled on top of her. Hs hands moved from her face to down her hips. His hands were careful and hesitant.

“Arthur.” He looked at her and she nodded. She kissed him once again. 

* * *

 

Elia slowly opened her eyes and saw the sun through the red curtains in her chamber. She saw Arthur watching her intently and he slowly smiled at her. He then kissed her cheek and rubbed her back.

“Good morning, my wife,” said Arthur, kissing her cheek once again.

“How long have you been staring at me?” asked Elia, rising to her elbows.

“Not long,” said Arthur. “Your beauty is undeniable. I cannot help but stare every once in a while.”

Elia laughs before moving on top of him, kissing his forehead, his nose, his chin and finally his lips. “Oh, my husband…” 

* * *

 

A babe soon formed in her womb within a few moon’s turn. It was not all that surprising to Elia with the way Arthur interrupts her work in her study as well as Elia dragging him away from his training. Though neither one of them ever complained.

She missed Prince Rhaegar’s wedding to Lyanna Stark, but due to Oberyn’s reports, it did not sound as lively as hers. The Prince looked solemn while Lyanna did not once smile at the prince, though they were reserved towards her brothers and her father. Arielle was happy to attend the wedding, especially seeing Queen Rhaella once again and acting like the girls they once used to be within each other’s presence.

Cersei Lannister attended the wedding with her father and uncle, and, according to Oberyn and Arielle, she was not happy at all. She left to her chambers before the feast and was rarely seen out of the room. It was announced before the wedding that she was soon to marry Robert Baratheon and be the Lady of Storm’s End. Elia does not think that Cersei would be happy with Robert Baratheon, though she might not be happy with anyone beside Rhaegar Targaryen. She probably wanted to be his Queen and to give birth to his golden babies with green eyes. But she now is forced to settle with Lord Baratheon. He is a handsome man, Elia is aware of that, but she is also aware of the fact that he is someone to – in a lack of better words – fuck, not marry. She hopes that he brings her some happiness in the end.  

Elia still ran her household and Dorne with the babe growing inside her. Walking slowly began to get difficult, but she persisted on and denied Oberyn and Arthur’s offer to carry her around. She did not need their help, she was strong enough for her and the babe to do so.  

* * *

 

Her daughter is born during one of the hottest days in Dorne. The birthing bed is long and sweaty as Ashara tries her best to keep her cool, but Elia is constantly reminded of her pain that came too quickly. Arielle holds her hand and directs orders to maids and servants to make sure she is comfortable.

Ashara and Arielle never left her side in all those hours. Arthur was right outside the door as Arielle did not permit him in the birthing room, claiming that she and Ashara was enough, and that he would have been of no use to anyone.

“Men can fight, joust, and on the occasion, rule over a land with little ease, but they are useless when it comes to the birth of a child. This is your war and your battlefield.”

Elia wanted to yell and scream at her. _She_ at least had her brother with her, why can she not have Arthur? But they words could not form as she began to scream and was hysterical. Within an hour, Ashara yells, “It’s a girl! A Princess!”

Elia manages to whisper “Arthur” before soon falling back and passing out.

She wakes up hours later with Ashara still by her side as she puts a cold, damp cloth on her forehead. She’s hot. Terribly and utterly hot. She never felt so hot before, especially living in Dorne. The sheets were wet from her sweat and Ashara began to change them as well.

“Ashara,” Elia whispers.

“Rest now, my princess,” she says, hurrying about. “Arthur and your mother are with the babe. They will be back shortly.”

Maesters came in and out, giving her potions and many concoctions, as well as maids with food and more water for Ashara to use. Within an hour, Elia was warm. In another hour, she managed to sit up against her pillows and soon after, she began to eat some food, though Ashara would say that she was just nibbling on it.

“Where is she? My daughter, where is she?”

Ashara walked out the door, and within seconds, Arthur came into the room. He was holding a small bundle in his arms. He did not look at her as he entered the room, opting to stare at their daughter instead. There was nobody else in the room as Arthur slowly walked towards her. Never once did he look away from the bundle, and never once did his smile leave his face.

“She is utterly breathtaking,” whispered Arthur, staring at the babe. “She is beautiful and every bit of her mother.”

He slowly gave the babe to her, though looking rather reluctant. She is beautiful and small and her cheeks were still ready and round with her pink lips. Her eyes flew open and she had Elia’s eyes. She never felt such love before in her life. To utterly adore something, to protect it with all cost, to love something in such away… It was all so strange and so uplifting. She cannot wait to see her daughter grow up, to see her become a fine young woman, to see her triumph, to see her make mistakes, to see her become everything her and Arthur are.

Arthur kissed her forehead as well as his daughter’s.

The door opened once again and Oberyn popped his head in before opening it further. He, Arielle and Ashara walked in, each as happy and radiant as the other. Oberyn had a silly look on his face, Ashara was beaming, and Arielle looked proud.

“She’s beautiful,” said Arielle. “Congratulations. I am sure she will grow up to be the best of both House Martell and House Dayne.”

“She is a precious, little thing. She takes after you, clearly. Thank the gods she does not have Arthur’s big nose.”

Arthur glares at Oberyn as Ashara and Elia laughs. Even Arielle smiles at the comment.

“Have you thought of a name yet?” Ashara soon asks of her. “We did not know what to call her, and some of the maids have been calling her Little Princess for now.”

Elia smiles as she looks at Arthur, who nodded.

“Aliandria,” she says. “Aliandria Martell, Princess of Dorne and the Heiress of Sunspear.”

Arielle soon sends out announcements to the lords and ladies of Dorne, as well as to the royal family and the great lords of Westeros. They all send their well wishes and gifts for Aliandria. Lady Blackmont sends a beautiful purple dress while Lord Uller sends a wooden horse and sun. Many gifts come in and one by one they open them while writing a note of gratitude back to them. The last gift was from Prince Rhaegar, a toy dragon with a dress made of Targaryen red and black. Elia tucks both away while Arthur writes back to him, thanking him for his kindness. Elia did not like the colours of the dress nor the dragon that came along with it. But she pushes it aside as Aliandria begins to cry from her cot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might keep Arielle alive in this fic for a while. I know she's supposed to die, but I'm gonna postpone that for a while. I like her too much.


	3. The Tamed Wolf

Her wedding was lavish with many singers and dancers, the feast was spectacular and was attended by much of Westeros. This was a match made by the Gods. The Dragon Prince and the Wolf Maiden. But Lyanna was not happy.

Rhaegar had been kind to her and she suppose he was handsome, though not rugged like Brandon or Robert Baratheon, but more delicate. She would not mind looking at his face for all her days to come, but she knew, deep down in her heart, he could not make her happy. He was soft spoken, quiet, and more of a scholar than a warrior, but she wanted someone to challenge her and had some passion, some fire within them. She wanted a dragon with fire within, but the dragon was sleeping and the wolf within her was not happy.

Lyanna barely talked to her father in King’s Landing. She begged to him to break this betrothal, even in the North you can hear whispers of the Mad King, or to give her a Northern match. Howland is a sweet boy, the Mormont’s have a son to spare and House Umber would not lay a finger on her. But her father was delighted at the match. A Royal Match. Something even the North cannot offer Rickard Stark.

“Love does not come easy, sweet Lyanna,” said Lord Stark. “But you will learn to appreciate the Prince and you will eventually understand the importance of this marriage between House Targaryen and House Stark. Do not fret, Lyanna, you will find happiness in the arms of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen.”

The bedding was as she expected from Rhaegar. Formal. She did want she was expected of. She thought that he would make this night for her special. But she was wrong, and she did not bother to try as well.

She spent the rest of the night curled up beside Rhaegar’s sleeping figure, watching his chest rise and fall. She could learn to love him. He was kind and quiet to her Northern wildness. She could be happy with him, she supposed.

 

* * *

Her marriage, though not what she had hoped for, it was pleasant enough, she supposed.  

She stirred clear of Aerys as much as she could and spent as much time with Queen Rhaella as possible. She is aware that she is not the good-daughter the Queen had hoped for – there are whispers around the castle that she wanted Princess Elia of Dorne to marry her son and had talked to Rhaegar about it extensively – but it was King Aerys who had the final decision.

Despite the whispers, Queen Rhaella has been unbearably kind to her while Viserys is a handful, but a joy nonetheless.

King Aerys, on the other hand, was not so kind. He made it known the he could marry Rhaegar to any other woman in the Seven Kingdoms if she does not produce a child soon. Rhaegar has promised her that it will never happen, but he is merely a prince compared to the Mad King. She sees the scars and bruises on Queen Rhaella, she is not stupid, and she knows what will happen to her if she does not produce an heir for House Targaryen.

But Lyanna does not see herself becoming a mother, of caring or nurturing such a small and delicate creature. She can scarcely remember her own mother. Lyarra. She was beautiful, that is all she can remember before she was taken away at the birthing bed. She loves Benjen with all her heart, but her mother was gone and she wished Lyarra was with her now to give her strength.

She express her concerns to Rhaegar. Her doubts and fears of becoming a mother and if she does not become pregnant soon. He listens to her concerns and never once interrupts her. Though he is not the husband she imagined having as a child, he is patient with her and is kind. He listens and tells her that he will take care of everything and that she need not worry about his father.

Lyanna thanks him but an uneasy feeling still rests inside her. She wished Brandon or Benjen or Ned were with her.

 

* * *

Prince Rhaegar told the King that he wanted to spend some alone time with his wife, without the presence of the royal court, at Dragonstone. The King’s parting words to Rhaegar was, “Get a child in her.”

Lyanna hugs Queen Rhaella tight and gives Viserys many kisses. She will miss them both, but is very happy to get away from the preying eyes of the court, as well as the King. With her ladies-in-waiting, some knights, and a handful of house maids and servants, she and Rhaegar leave for Dragonstone.

She feels a new sense of happiness at the rather gloomy island. The dragon towers were fearsome, the halls and rooms cold with the presence of dragons everywhere, but Lyanna finds them fascinating.

Within a moons turn, the halls and rooms have brightened with the amount of candles Lyanna has ordered the servants to put around the castle. She has taken charge of the household, making sure that everyone is comfortable and happy. She visits the gardens as much as possible, taking in the beauty of Aegon’s Garden, while also praying to a tree that she painted a face upon.

Rhaegar smiles more at Dragonstone. He takes her up on her offers of riding around the island and walking around the garden. He ordered winter roses to be planted in the garden and Lyanna was pleasantly surprised to see an arranging of them in her chambers within a couple days. She is happier with him at Dragonstone. He took her away from King Aerys. He listened to her fears back at the palace and he protected her. She was very grateful for his actions.  

He visits her chambers at night more frequently than he did during their time at the palace and certainly more attentive. He focuses more on pleasuring her than more on the duty aspect of getting a babe in her. They talk, sometimes all night long. He of his mother and brother, and his desire to be a good king one day, while she talks about her brothers, what she can remember of her mother and of Winterfell.

“We must go visit Winterfell one day, my lady,” says Rhaegar, taking her hand in his. “If it is anything like you describe it, I cannot wait to see it, as well as to see your family again. Brandon, Eddard and Benjen must miss you terribly, my lady.”

“Lyanna,” she whispers. “Please call me Lyanna. We have been married for a while now, my prince. I think we are past formalities.”

Rhaegar gives her a small smile, though it is filled with sadness. “Most married couples still use formalities, Lyanna. Even those that have been married for years.”

Lyanna squeezes his hand. “And we are not them, my prince.”

“Rhaegar.”

“Rhaegar,” she repeated. She was surprised on how his name rolled off her tongue easily.

 

* * *

Within two moon turns, she is soon with child. Her fears come back once again, but once she tells Rhaegar, they disappear. He kisses her cheek and holds her close, yet delicately, and whispers about how she will be a great mother and how he thanks the gods he has her and the babe in his life. He kissed her cheeks, her shoulders, her hands and she finally whispers, “I love you.”

He looks at her for a moment, almost stunned. He gave her a small smile before saying, “And I you, Lyanna, as well as the babe growing inside.”

Lyanna did not know whether or not she was truly and utterly in love with Rhaegar, but she knew she cared about him too much to not express it somehow. She was fond of him and she knew that her feelings for him would grow from here on.

 

* * *

Lyanna did not like being pregnant. Not one bit. After a few moons turn, she could barely walk and Maester Artimis advised her to stay in bed for the rest of her pregnancy. She nearly wanted to claw his face off as Rhaegar took the maester’s advice to heart.

Her ladies-in-waiting tried their best to keep her entertained, but all they did was sit around and talk all day about their future husbands and Lyanna’s child. She sent them away after a while. She enjoyed it when Rhaegar came to visit her in her chambers, but he was too busy running Dragonstone and Lyanna was without any good company.

So, she was especially happy when Ned came down from the Vale to come visit her. Rhaegar told her that he sent a letter to him, requesting his presence as his wife missed him dearly.

Lyanna was beyond happy at the thought of spending time with her brother, especially since his visit during her wedding was short lived. Though she could not meet with him at the dock, she waited patiently inside the Great Hall of Dragonstone for Ned with Ser Jonothor Darry keeping guard of her.

She could not believe her eyes when she saw him. He was taller than he was during her wedding, but probably not as tall as Brandon. His hair was long and was tied back with a beard that was trimmed neatly, unlike Brandon’s. He was wearing simple clothing with the marks of House Stark embroidered on his chest. Though he was always stoic and quiet, he let out a laugh that echoed when he saw Lyanna, especially her prodding stomach.

“I see motherhood has taken to you,” said Ned, his smile wide.

“I am barely a mother yet, Ned,” said Lyanna, standing straight. “Now, come and embrace me, you know I cannot walk much.”

Ned hugged her close and tight. “I have missed you, Lya. I am glad to see you happy, especially with the Prince. You did not see too happy at your wedding.”

“That was a long time ago, sweet Ned. Things have changed.”

“You are happy, are you not?”

“My dear Ned, do you fret for me. I am happy on Dragonstone and I am happy with Rhaegar. We love each other and care for each other deeply.”

Ned smiled at her words. “I am glad to hear. Brandon and Benjen have been worried about you. They should feel better now after I write to them.”

“Ease their minds another time, Ned. Come I want to spend some time with you before you return back to the Vale. You must tell me everything.”

 

* * *

Ned’s visit was long but it seemed to go by very quickly for her. They spent as much time together as possible and managed to convince Rhaegar to let her out of the castle and to show Ned around. Knowing that Ned would be with her the whole time swayed Rhaegar and the maester to let her out, but only if Ned was around at all times. Lyanna was happy to get out of the castle and to spend more time with Ned. He particularly enjoyed the garden and was happy to see that Rhaegar added some winter roses, obviously a sign of love towards his wife.

“He cares for your safety and loves you dearly, Lya,” said Ned. “Have you and your husband thought of names for the babe? Or perhaps whether or not you will continue to live here or back at King’s Landing?”

“We have not talked about name, I wanted to wait and he has been so busy running Dragonstone and business back at the palace as well. I assume we will name our babe soon enough.”

“Aye, the day is soon approaching.”

“The maester said I should be due within a moons turn or sooner. We will probably set back to King’s Landing soon after for the feast the King and Queen have been planning for the babe’s birth.”

Ned dropped his voice and whispered, “Be careful, Lya. I hear that the King has become worse with burnings happening every other day. Please stay on his good side, Lya, and please stay safe.” 

“I will try, Ned. I have the protection of Rhaegar’s love to shield me from King Aerys. I know my husband will not have any harm come to me or his babe.”

  

* * *

Her son came shortly after Ned left and for days Lyanna bled to birth the Heir to the Throne. Rhaegar waited outside the room as the maester tried to stop the bleeding. She can hear him whisper under his breath that there was too much blood and how unlikely that she or the babe would survive.

But she was not some helpless southern girl who was locked up in some tower, she was Lyanna of House Stark, The She-Wolf of Winterfell and she will not die in the birthing bed. She will not allow herself to die like this.

 

* * *

“Aegon,” whispered Rhaegar as he walked into her chambers, giving her a smile. Lyanna sat up and felt something in her drop. He named their child without discussing it with her.

“Aegon?”

“After Aegon the Conqueror and my great-grandfather.”

_As well as Aegon the Unlucky and Aegon the Unworthy_.

“And for a brother I never had. Our son will be just as great as them. Our son is the prince that was promised. He will save this kingdom from the darkness.”

Rhaegar kissed the top of Aegon’s head and Lyanna looked down at the Targaryen embroidered blanket covering her. She could hear the madness in her husband’s voice, though it was rather faint. Rhaegar soon walked over to her and quietly and carefully passed her son to her.

He was so small and tiny. He was sleeping peacefully in her arms, his small chest rising and falling in rhythm. She traced and memorized every inch of her face. His skin was pale like that of the Starks and had a mop of curly dark hair upon his head.

Her son, prince or not, will always be her son and she… she did not get to name him. Give the slightest choice, she would have chosen a Northern name from him, Brandon or Jon or Willam, all strong names of Kings and Lords of Winterfell, or perhaps after Daeron the Good or Aemon the Dragonknight if her son must be named after a Targaryen. She supposed she could get used to Aegon, but would rather have had a choice in the matter.

“He is a peaceful one,” commented Rhaegar, “nothing like Viserys when he was born. He made sure everyone was aware of his birth.”

With that, Aegon’s eyes flew open and he let out a yawn that stole Lyanna’s heart.

He had her eyes. Aegon was a Stark through and through. She might not have got to name him, but she managed to triumph in Aegon’s appearance.

 

* * *

“He’s a Northerner,” sneered King Aerys.

Lyanna’s back straightened at the proclamation. Has he forgotten that she was of the North, the icy and unforgivable North? That ice ran through her veins? That her blood was that of the First Men?

While Queen Rhaella welcomed Little Aegon and embraced him with kisses, Aerys refused to touch him.

“At least you produced an heir after all this time. Let us hope that you won’t take as long next time, then you will just be as useless as my sister.”

Rhaella winced at his words. New bruises have formed around her wrist, as well as her neck. Her lip with was split open but clearly an old wound. Lyanna has heard stories of the Queen’s once apparent beauty and the liveliness she once possessed as a young lady, she all she now sees is a shell of a once beautiful lady with a monster of a husband.

“Let us hope the next one has some Targaryen in him,” continued the King. “What use is some Northern spawn on the throne when all they do is bend their knees?”  

Lyanna’s eyes widened at his comment. King Torrhen Stark did what he had to do to ensure the safety of the North and its people. And if he was insinuating that she was a whore, then she knows Rhaegar would stand up for his wife. But Rhaegar merely flared his nose.

Lyanna, tired and with sadness weighing her down, took Aegon back into her arms and said, “I shall go find Viserys. I am sure he will be happy to hear that he is an uncle.”

And with that, Lyanna turned and walked out of the room with Prince Lewyn Martell following her. She stopped after turning a corner and leaned against the wall.

“Princess?” asked Prince Lewyn.

“Take Aegon, please,” whispered Lyanna.

Once Aegon was settled in his arms, he asked, “Is everything alright, princess? Do you need me to call Prince Rhaegar?”

“No,” Lyanna said quickly. “I am fine, merely tired, that’s all.” She took a couple deep breaths before saying, “I think I shall retire to my chambers for the time being. I shall find Viserys another time, but for now Aegon needs his sleep, and so do I.”

Lewyn Martell carried Aegon back to her chambers as Lyanna held on to his other arm for support.

“Tell me, Ser Lewyn,” said Lyanna, dropping her voice down low, “if the king orders for me and my son’s removal, would you?”

The knight took in a deep breath. “Once a knight of the Kingsguard has donned their cloak, we are promised to obey every word from the King. But a knight who hurts women or children is no knight at all. I am of the Kingsguard, Princess Lyanna, and I am a Martell as well, and in Dorne, we do not let harm come upon women or children.” They paused outside the door and the knight turned towards her, handing back Aegon. “Princess, if you do not feel safe, say the word and I will have a ship set sail to Dorne for you. Under my niece and sister’s protection, as well as Arthur Dayne’s, you will not be harmed in Dorne. I can promise you that much, princess.”

Lyanna smiled his sweet words, but knew that she will never be able to hide in Dorne, not with the King keeping a close eye on her. She bid the knight a farewell as she entered her chambers.

She was severely disappointed in Rhaegar for not defending his mother after his father’s horrible insult or herself. If Rickard had dared to insult Lyarra’s memory in front of her brothers, he would not be standing by the end of the day, and even worse if any harm had befallen Lyanna.

Rhaegar, though not inclined to violence or brutality, stood by as Aerys insulted her, his son and his mother. She hoped, as she put Aegon in his cot, that her son would grow up to not accept such actions from others and that perhaps, he would grow up with a spine.

 

* * *

Since coming back from Dragonstone, her relationship with Rhaegar has weakened severely. In Dragonstone, they spent much time together, talking and understanding each other. Now he locks himself away in his chambers with his scrolls of prophecies. He visits her chambers at night still, however, the passion they had at Dragonstone has soon burned out and Lyanna had secretly hoped that her womb would not quicken with his seed. Aerys had hoped for another child, a daughter perhaps to marry Aegon to keep the Targaryen tradition going, but nothing came about after Aegon’s first nameday.

There was a celebration as her family came down with many other lords and ladies of the Seven Kingdoms, though some could not. Princess Elia Martell could not come as their daughter came down with a sickness but sent her mother, Arielle, in her place. Queen Rhaella and Prince Lewyn were delighted in her presence. Robert and Cersei Baratheon did not attend as well as Lady Baratheon suffered another miscarriage. Nevertheless, the celebration brought a smile to Aegon’s Stark-like face.

 

* * *

All the guests have left the palace and have returned home safely, and that is when she found the letter. She felt betrayed, angry and wretched as tears rolled down her cheeks.

_Dearest Princess Elia,_

_It has been sometime since we have spoken to each other or corresponded. I know that you are busy running Dorne and your household, but I feel I must confess to you._

_Since your wedding and me leaving Sunspear, I have not felt the same. I felt happiness near you and your beauty. I thought that my mother merely wanted me to marry you due to her friendship with your lady mother, but whether or not that was her intention, I fell for you, even though I know we may never be together. My love for you is selfish, I have come to that realization but nothing has since compared to the memory of us dancing at the Tourney at Lannisport, the feeling of use close together, ignorant of everyone else and their preying eyes. I never wanted to let you go. You are the image of the sun, and I flew too close, unable to each you._

_Though we may not be together for all our days to come, I will always remember your warmth, the smell of your skin and the happiness of your eyes. I know that we both have duties to our houses and families, but I want you to know that you will never stray from my thoughts. That your grace and beauty and kindness will leave an everlasting impression on me. I am unworthy of your love but I know that love is the most purest part of me and I will one day show that to you._

_Rhaegar._

Why must he betray her like this? To love another and to confess it in this letter, she wanted to rip it, burn it, throw it into the sea and never see it again. But instead, she confronted Rhaegar in his studies with this letter clutched in her hands.

Rhaegar was speaking with Jon Connington. They both looked at her when the door flew open. She was out of breath and her eyes were stinging and she did not bother to wipe her tears away. She wanted Rhaegar to see them. 

“How?” It was the only thing she could think of.

“I do not understand what you are speaking about, Lyanna,” said Rhaegar, standing up and walking towards her. He was so handsome and miserable she wanted to attack him, but instead she threw the letter at his face.

He merely glanced at it before turning to Jon Connington. “Please leave me, Jon. I need to speak with my wife. We shall discuss the tourney another time.”

Jon merely gave a short bow and a dirty look towards Lyanna before leaving them alone. The moment the door closed behind Lyanna, she said, “How could you?”

“I did not send the letter,” Rhaegar said calmly, putting it down on his study table and leaning against it. His hands were clasped together as he surveyed Lyanna, as though she was a child.

“You love her,” she stated.

“Once, a long time ago,” said Rhaegar, agreeing with her. He looked even more malicious, if it were possible.

“Do you still love her?” she whispered.

Rhaegar looked her dead in the eyes for a moment, hesitating, before saying, “No. It was a long time ago, Lyanna. Before I even met you or got to know you, understand you. This was before I fell in love with you.”

“But that letter! You wrote her a tale of your love for her and of how you wished to prove your love to her!”

“I wrote this letter a long time ago. I wrote this after her wedding to Arthur Dayne but I never sent it. This was merely an adolescent love of sorts. But I understand now that it was merely covetousness at the moment. Though I admire Princess Elia for ruling Dorne, I do not love her the way I love you, Lyanna.”

Lyanna merely said nothing, still feeling a sting of betrayal in her heart.

“You gave me Aegon and I am sure we will have many more child. You make me happy and wish to be a better man for our growing family and the Kingdom. I hope that you can see that I love you and only you, Lyanna.”

Lyanna did not say anything for a while. She thought of Rhaegar and Elia dancing close together, holding each other and forgetting everyone else.

“If you do not love her anymore, how come you did not burn the letter?”

Rhaegar looked taken back for a mere second before picking up the letter and hovering the letter over a candlelight flame. Within seconds, the parchment caught on fire and he placed it on a silver platter. She watched as the letter vanished, leaving smoke behind. The letter might be gone, but that does not dissolve what she is feeling and she felt as though he was not telling her the truth.

 

* * *

She met her family once again at Harrenhal. Brandon picked her up and swung her around in circles, delighted to see her after such a long time. Benjen hugged her tightly as Lord Rickard kissed her forehead. Ned waited patiently before greeting her as well.

“So tell us, Lya, how have you been?” asked Brandon, tall and broad shoulders with laughter dancing in his voice. “And where is your little lad?”

“Aegon is back at King’s Landing with Queen Rhaella. He is too young to travel.”

Brandon’s face fell for a moment before Benjen said, “Then we shall accompany you back to King’s Landing after the tourney, right, Father? We can see Aegon and the palace?” He looked at Rickard with hope and so did Brandon.

Rickard nodded. “We shall ask Prince Rhaegar before intruding upon his home.”

“Oh, he should be fine about it,” said Brandon. “After all, we are all family, are we not?”

Lyanna nodded and hoped that Rhaegar would agree to her family visiting. She looked towards Ned, expecting him to agree with Brandon, but only to see him looking across the courtyard.

She followed his gaze towards the Martell tent. She flared her nose at the sight of the Martell’s sigil but saw that Ned was gazing at a woman with glossy long hair and pale skin. She was wearing a long purple dress and was a great beauty. She was talking to a knight of the Reach before someone else stepped out of the tent. Princess Elia.

Lyanna gasped. She knew that she would eventually have to meet the princess, but she did not expect it to be now. Elia was beautiful, there was no denying it. Her black hair was done elegantly with her dress flowing gracefully around her as she and her lady walked together. She looked more a Queen than Rhaella ever could.

Princess Elia looked towards Lyanna and made her way towards the Starks. Lyanna did not know what to say, what to do. She was going to be face to face with the woman who first stole Rhaegar’s heart.

“Princess Lyanna, how nice it is to finally meet you,” said Princess Elia. “I apologize for not attending Prince Aegon’s first nameday, but my own little one was terribly sick at the time, I am sure you understand.”

“Completely, Princess,” said Lyanna, nodding, her face turning red with heat. “A daughter, am I right?”

The Princess’s smile grew. “Yes. Aliandria. She is back at Sunspear with my mother. I do not think she has the patience for such a long travel.”

Lyanna smiles at her, though it was strained.

“You are Lord Stark, I presume?” The Princess turns her attention towards her family.

“Rickard Stark, princess,” said her father, giving a small bow. “And these are my sons, Brandon, my heir, Eddard and Benjen.”

Princess Elia gives them all a small curtsy, smiling at Lyanna’s brothers. “And this is Ashara of House Dayne. My closest companion and my good-sister.”

Ashara Dayne dips her head in a small curtsy. “Lords, princess, it is very nice to meet you all.”

“And you, my lady,” said Ned, surprising every Stark.

“If you could excuse us, princess, I must find my husband,” said Princess Elia. “Knowing Arthur, he could train the whole day away. I must get him some rest. I shall see you at the feast.”

And with that, Princess Elia and Lady Ashara whisked away, whispered to each other and giggling.

“’And you, my lady’,” repeated Brandon, laughing. “Oh my, Ned, and here I thought you preferred the company of –“

“That’s enough, Brandon,” snapped Lord Rickard Stark. “If you must banter your brother, do it behind closed doors, not in public. You never know who is listening.”

Brandon had the sense to look disgraced at himself. Rickard sighed and walked back towards his tent as Benjen soon followed.

“I am sorry, Ned,” said Brandon. “I was merely teasing you.”

Ned shook his head. “It does not matter, Brandon. I understand. I do not hold it against you.”

Brandon smiled. “Good.” He clapped Ned’s shoulder, kissed Lyanna’s cheek and walked away.

Lyanna studied Ned’s face as he watched Brandon walk away. She knew he was hurt by Brandon’s comment but she also knew that he would forget and forgive Brandon as Ned always did.

“Lady Ashara is very beautiful,” said Lyanna.

Ned looked at her before walking away as well.

 

* * *

Lyanna sat at the head table with Rhaegar at her side and the King at his. She carefully watched her husband while also keeping an eye on Princess Elia.

Princess Elia was sitting at a nearby table with Lady Ashara, Prince Oberyn Martell, Ser Arthur Dayne, and a handful of Dornish lords and ladies. They were all talking and laughing, jesting with each other. Princess Elia was leaning on Arthur, both laughing and holding each other’s hand. Ser Arthur Dayne was said to be one of the deadliest knights in all of the Seven Kingdoms, a knight King Aerys did not grasp at the right moment. The Sword of the Morning who wields Dawn, and he turns soft around his wife, looking at her as though she is the most spectacular thing in the world. They were in love, madly in love. Lyanna envied them oh so much.

There was a space between her and Rhaegar, and she feared that the space will continue to grow.

The music soon began. Elia and Arthur were the first to be partnered. Lyanna looks towards Rhaegar, hoping that he would ask for her hand, but instead finds him staring at the Princess and her knight. Her nose flares at the sight of her husband clearly lusting after Princess Elia, who clearly did not want him. She was right in front of her, willing to open her heart for him, love him and cherish him. But he wanted the Dornish Princess.

Lyanna turns back to everyone slowly getting up and dancing. Lady Ashara has soon began to dance with Prince Oberyn while Brandon began to dance with Lord Whent’s daughter. The song then changed to _The Dornishman’s Wife_.

Rhaegar asked her to dance, but as they joined the floor with the others, she found them dancing close to Princess Elia and Ser Arthur.

_“The Dornishman’s wife was as fair as the sun, and her kisses were warmer than spring…”_

Ser Arthur twirled Elia in circles as she squealed with laughter. Rhaegar held Lyanna’s hands tightly at the sight.

_“…But the Dornishman’s blade was made of black steel, and its kiss was a terrible thing...”_

Lyanna felt suffocated with Rhaegar. He still had feelings for Princess Elia and he was going to make a grave mistake if he made it known. He would be putting her and Aegon in danger with the King, as well as turning Dorne and the North against the throne. Rhaegar is not stupid to let that happen.

They danced together solemnly while everyone surrounding them enjoyed their dance. Lyanna aches for Dragonstone, for what her life was like was only Rhaegar with her. She had loved him so at Dragonstone. They should have gone back with Aegon. They would have been happier.

_“…Brothers, oh brothers, my days here are done, the Dornishman’s taken my life, But what does it matter, for all men must die, and I’ve tasted the Dornishman’s wife!”_

Everyone clapped as another song started and soon enough, Lyanna dances with someone – Howland Reed.

“I hope you or the Prince do not mind me asking for your dance,” Howland said quietly. He almost looked scared at the thought of dancing with Lyanna.

“Howland, we are old friends and I doubt the prince minds me dancing with an old friend.”

A long time ago, Lyanna asked her father to consider Howland as her husband. She wonders if she would be any happier at Greywater Watch than at King’s Landing. She still loves Rhaegar, even after his betrayal. She is sure that once this tourney is over with, they will soon return to Dragonstone and everything will be fine.

She soon dances with Lord Whent, Jon Connington, Ser Barristan Selmy and, finally, Brandon.

 “Are you having fun, Brandon?” asked Lyanna. “I saw you with Lord Whent’s daughter, she is quite smitten with you.”

Brandon had a smug look upon his face. “She is a fair maid and as beautiful as everyone says she is, but I prefer the company of my sweet Cat.”

Lyanna is glad to see that someone has finally managed to tame the wild wolf within Brandon, though she wishes the best to Catelyn Tully for the years to come. She knows her brother all too well and hopes that he does not hurt his bride.

“Ned is quite smitten with Lady Ashara,” said Brandon. “He finally asked her to dance.”

Lyanna turned to see tense Ned and graceful Ashara dancing together. Ned does not possess the same charm that Brandon has, but she knows Ned will only open up to Lady Ashara if she does the same to him.

“They make a fine couple,” commented Lyanna.

“If Ned knows how to couple with ladies, that is,” said Brandon. “Lady Ashara is said to be the most beautiful woman in all of the Seven Kingdoms. Ned will have to learn how to even speak the Common Tongue properly if he wishes to make an impression on her.”

Lyanna frowned at his words.

“I am not wrong, Lya,” said Brandon.

“I understand, Brandon.”

  

* * *

Robert Baratheon managed to unhorse many during the seven-sided melee while Ned and Ashara sat beside each other. Lyanna did not care much for the melee, but she knew that Ned and Robert regard each other as brothers.

After Robert was declared the winner, he holds his wife’s favour high in the air before tying it around his warhammer once more. Lyanna looks to see Cersei Baratheon gracing her husband with a small smile, but she could see no warmth from the lioness. She knows that the marriage between Cersei and Robert is strictly one of duty and that they have suffered many miscarriages. There is no love between the two but keep up appearances for the sake of their houses. Perhaps with the birth of their first born, they will find some sort of happiness.

After the melee, Ned escorts Ashara back to her tent while Ser Barristan does the same for Lyanna. At supper, Lyanna sits beside a quiet Rhaegar as Ned and Ashara sit together, whispered towards each other. She is glad to see that Ned has relaxed around Ashara. She seems to give him confidence that he sourly lacks. Princess Elia sit beside her bother and husband, whispering and laughing about who knows what while Lyanna sits at the head table, quiet and alone. She envies the Princess for all her freedom. She gets to rule over Dorne, her birthright, while Lyanna married Rhaegar and gets to birth his children for all her days to come. And the Princess has Rhaegar’s love and admiration, something Lyanna is sure she is still trying to earn.

Rhaegar begins to play a son on his harp and Lyanna soon excuses herself as Ser Barristan escorts her back to the chambers Lord Whent gave to her. She has little patience for Rhaegar’s harp playing and his many sad songs when all she wishes for is to be treated like Princess Elia and Lady Ashara.

However, she should have stayed to listen to Rhaegar’s sad songs as someone was waiting patiently to speak with Rhaegar alone and this was Lyanna’s fault.

 

* * *

The tourney was long and Lyanna watched Arthur Dayne take out many knights, as did Rhaegar. Every time Arthur Dayne’s name was announced, Lyanna could not help but look at Princess Elia. She wanted to see the Princess’s reaction to her husband participating in the joust and wining against some of the men, but fall defeat to Lyanna’s own husband. She felt as though she had triumphed over the Princess and could not help but smile smugly. The Princess did not seem phased by this, clapping and cheering all the same with Ser Arthur lost. She even kissed his cheek as he came to sit beside her and whispered something in his ear that made him smile.

Her own husband did well in the joust, unhorsing Lord Yohn Royce, her brother, Brandon, Ser Arthur Dayne, ad finally, Ser Barristan Selmy. She was quite shocked to see the outcome that Ser Barristan lost, given the history of the legendary knight, but was all the more happier for her husband. He unhorsed some of the greatest knights of the Seven Kingdoms. He was the future King of Westeros and the champion of the day.

But all the happiness she had felt for him had disappeared when Prince Rhaegar Targaryen rides past where she sat and placed the crown of winter roses upon the lap of Cersei Baratheon.

“I… I do not understand,” whispered Lyanna as the crowd whispers and gasps around her. She stares at Rhaegar for a moment, hoping that he will look at her and give an explanation, but he merely tips his head towards Cersei, who does not move and stares the crown on her lap. Robert Baratheon shakes in his seat, waiting to burst with rage, but he is held back as Jon Arryn whispers in his ear, no doubt trying to calm him.

Behind her, Brandon tries to get out of the stands, already wanting to fight Rhaegar, but Rickard holds his arm.

“Go calm Brandon,” Lyanna whispers to Ned. “I do not wish to see him get killed. Go now.”

Ned gets up to his feet without another word and, with Benjen, the men of House Stark leave the stands.

Everyone looks towards Lyanna, expecting to see her lose control, to release her inner wolf, to show the Seven Kingdoms what the She-Wolf of Winterfell can do, but she merely sits in her seat, patiently and quietly. This is what King’s Landing has done to her. It has stomped out the wolf inside her, leaving behind a shell of what used to be the She-Wolf. This is what Rhaegar has done to her. He has turned her into Queen Rhaella.

She looks towards Princess Elia to see pity written all over her face. Lyanna leaves the stands at once. It seems as though the Princess of Dorne has truly won in the end. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, Rhaegar strikes again! 
> 
> So, most of the what happened in the pre-books will happen in this story (ie. The Rebellion), but aspects will certainly change during the war and after. 
> 
> Lyanna is not one of my favourite characters, but hopefully I did her justice in this chapter as she is living under different circumstances with Aerys and Rhaegar as compared to Rickard at Winterfell. 
> 
> I will be writing more chapters with different character's POV outside of Dorne. I am planning on writing the POVs of Rhaella, Ned and possibly Robert or Cersei. But this is still Elia and Dorne's story, so their POV will be more frequent than others.


	4. The Silver Prince

“I will kill him!”

“Keep your voice down,” snapped Rickard. “If someone hears you –“

“Let them!” yelled Brandon, shaking with rage. “Let them hear me! Let Rhaegar hear me! Let Rhaegar hear what I will do to him! Let them all hear!”

Ned watches as Brandon paces up and down Lyanna’s chambers. He understands what Brandon is feeling, but there must be some sort of explanation to all this madness. Lyanna had spoken about their happiness, about their love at Dragonstone. How could Rhaegar insult her like this? How could he taint her like this, especially with Cersei Baratheon, a married woman?

Rickard watches Brandon pace as well, making sure that his son will not continue to put himself in danger by seeking Rhaegar Targaryen. But Ned knew that Rickard was angry as well. His fists were clenched behind his back and his mouth was in a thin line. Benjen was sitting on Lyanna’s bed, unsure about what was going on and what to do. His little brother caught up in this madness.

Lyanna finally arrived in her chambers and Ned saw a shell of a girl with wolf blood running through her veins. Gone was his headstrong, willful, hot-tempered sister who could out-race anyone on a horse. What have the Targaryen’s done to her?

Brandon went to her at once, holding her shoulders. “Let me defend your honour, Lya. He insulted you, embarrassed you. He has wronged you, Lyanna. Let me defend you, Lya, let me defend you please –”

“No,” said Lyanna, her voice small, hushes and detached. “I am sure this is all some misunderstanding. My husband would not do this to me.”

Brandon looked surprised at her words, retreating his hands. “Lya –“

Lyanna ignored him and turned towards Rickard. “Please take Brandon back to your tent, father. I do not wish for any more altercations today. I will see you all at the feast and, Brandon, do not insult House Targaryen furthermore. If you approach my husband, I will send you back to Winterfell at the first light.”

Rickard nods and with Benjen, they both take Brandon back to their tent. Brandon follows them without another word, looking back at Lyanna in confusion. Once the doors have closed, Lyanna straightens up and searches through her belongings.

“Lya –“

“Will you please help, Ned?” asked Lyanna, tossing some of her gowns on her bed. “I am searching for a dress King Aerys once gifted me when I first married Rhaegar. It is a beautiful gown of the finest red and black of Targaryen. I shall wear it tonight at the feast.”

“Aye, I will help you,” said Ned, nodding. 

* * *

 

Elia pities Lyanna Stark. For all her Northern beauty and willfulness, Rhaegar still looks past her and crowns Cersei Baratheon his Queen of Love and Beauty. She does not understand. Lyanna has given him a son and she is still quite young while Cersei is older, married and is apparently barren. She does not understand what is going on in Rhaegar Targaryen’s head.

She sits beside Ashara, Arthur and Oberyn in the Great Hall as everyone still whispers around her. The Baratheons have left after the tournament. She saw Lady Cersei wearing a hood covering her face while Robert gripping his warhammer tightly.

“I saw Brandon Stark leaving the castle with his father and brother beside him to their tent,” whispered Ashara. “He was shaking with rage, that one.”

Soon after she spoke those words, The Starks entered the hall. Brandon, a handsome young man, was now scowling at everyone. Lord Rickard’s face was harden as he kept an eye on his son. He was smart. He knew that if Brandon made a scene, it would be the end of him. Benjen, the youngest boy, stayed close to Ned, who looked solemn.

“The oldest certainly has the wolf blood in him,” said Oberyn. “Hopefully he does not do anything stupid.”

“Lord Rickard looks like he will stop him somehow,” said Arthur.

“Good thing Cersei and Robert Baratheon have already left,” said Elia. “Princess Lyanna and the Starks do not need their presence right now.”

“Such a shame,” said Ashara. “Ned and Robert are close friends. Hopefully they do not find fault in each other.”

“And remember who is really at fault,” said Oberyn.

Lyanna soon entered the Great Hall and nobody could question that she was Rhaegar’s wife. She was wearing a great and long gown of terrible Targaryen red and black. Her hair was done is a Southern style while her lips were painted with red and her back was straight. She was standing before everyone as a Targaryen princess.

Ashara stared in amazement while Elia smiled. She was making a bold statement and no one would question Lyanna tonight as she sat beside Rhaegar, smiling and clapping for the musicians and the dancers. 

* * *

 

“Lady Ashara, may I have this dance?”

Ashara nodded and took Ned’s warm hands. There was tension in Ned’s stance that she thought she had dissolved.

“Are you alright, Lord Stark?” asked Ashara.

“Ned,” he said lowly. “Please call me Ned.”

“Ned,” said Ashara. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. Just tired, my lady.” He looked towards Lyanna and Rhaegar, sitting at the head table, looking over everyone.

“Ned,” whispered Ashara. He looked at her and said, “She told me that they had been happy at Dragonstone. They spent their time walking along the shore and the garden. He had ordered winter roses to be planted in the garden so that she could have some of Winterfell with her. And now he has placed a crown of winter roses on a lap of another woman. Cersei.”

“This is not her fault, Ned,” said Ashara, keeping her voice low. She did not wish for others to hear her so she took Ned out of the Great Hall and down a dim corridor. “This is Rhaegar Targaryen’s doing, Ned. I am certain Cersei Baratheon had no part in this.”

Ned nodded. “That is what Rhaegar said.”

“What?”

“I was in Lyanna’s room, helping her find her gown, when Rhaegar came in. I said nothing, fearing for the insults I might have thrown at him or possibly strike the prince. I stayed in the corner as Rhaegar apologized for what happened at the tourney, saying that he was merely felt sorry for her for all her miscarriages and her loveless marriage to Robert. Lyanna said nothing. She nodded and when he left her chambers, she continued to go on as though nothing happened. I am worried for her, Lady Ashara.”

“I am sure that once Princess Lyanna and Prince Rhaegar are away from Harrenhal, things between them will be fine.”

“I am not as certain as you are, Lady Ashara,” said Ned. “I do not see it happening.”

“I did not know that you were a _maegi_ , Ned,” teased Ashara. “Do not fuss over such a small thing like a crown of roses. They are both married with a son. I am sure they will forget about this day.”

“Are you sure _you_ are not a _maegi_ , Lady Ashara?” asked Ned. “You seem very certain of yourself. Tell me,” he smiled, “what do you see in my future?”

“I see you taking me on a walk outside the castle,” said Ashara, taking a hold of his hand. “Come now, let us see the beauty of what Harrenhal has to offer and forget about this day.” 

* * *

 

Princess Elia walked towards the head table, smiling graciously.

“My King,” said Elia, bowing. “Prince Rhaegar, Princess Lyanna.”

“Martell,” sneered the Mad King. “What do you want?”

“I have come to wish you and House Targaryen prosperity for years to come, my king,” said Elia sweetly, “and have come to see if Prince Rhaegar will indulge me in a dance.”

Rhaegar’s eyes widened as Aerys said, “It is not custom –“

“I will be happy to dance with you, Princess Elia,” said Rhaegar, standing up and taking her hand.

They swayed quietly to the tune of the song. She remembers dancing with him at Lannisport and once at her wedding. She thought better of him then. He was a handsome man but now she sees that his face is unshaven and his eyes hollow. She had hoped that perhaps the Targaryen madness had not touched upon him, but she can see it slowly creep upon him.

“I remember the last time we danced together, Princess,” said Rhaegar. “It was at your wedding with Arthur Dayne.”

“I remember,” said Elia. “It was a lovely day.”

“A day you deserved,” said Rhaegar. He looked at her the same as he did on her wedding day.

Elia gave him a small smile. “My Prince, please remember that you are married with a wife and son,” she whispered.

“I speak only the truth,” whispered Rhaegar. “A beautiful day for a beautiful princess.”

“Rhaegar, please try to remember your wife, your son and the realm. They are all watching your every action.”

“I know that very well, Princess,” said Rhaegar. “Lyanna and Aegon do not stray from my mind too long.” He paused for a moment, scrutinizing at Elia. “What are you implying, Princess?”

Elia was feeling bold. “Whatever it is that you are planning on doing with Cersei Baratheon, I would advise against it – “

“You are not part of my small council –“

“But you will listen to me,” she said, her voice hushed. She was too angry at what the tourney meant and what will come of it. “If you have a plan, please reconsider it. Do not plunge this kingdom into something that cannot be undone, my prince.”

Rhaegar mumbled something under his breath that she did not catch.

“Elia, will you meet me in the castle’s library after the feast? I need to speak with you more privately.”

Elia did not get to answer as the music stopped and Rhaegar soon left her. She did not see where he went. He seemed to disappear. She turned towards the head table to see Lyanna Stark staring intently at her. Elia gave her a small curtsy before returning back to her table.

She did not know if it was wise to go speak with Rhaegar after the scandal that happened at the tourney. It was not wise, but if she were to possible stop him from doing something even more foolish, she must act.

“Princess Elia,” said a voice behind her.

Elia stood up and Lyanna continued, “Please, may I sit with you?”

“Of course, princess,” said Elia.

Lyanna smiled. “I am no princess. Not like you.” She looked over at the other guests dancing. “You were born a princess while I was made one by Rhaegar. You are very fortunate, Princess Elia. You are your mother’s heir. You have not been passed over by a brother, you have married out of love and you have a daughter. How fortunate for you.”  

“Thank you, princess.” Elia had no idea where Lyanna was going with this.

Lyanna then turned to Elia and was shocked. Lyanna may have been dressed like a Targaryen princess, but Elia could see a small girl with uncertainty and insecurity in her grey eyes.

“If Rhaegar is to wrong me in some way and if you knew, you will tell me, will you not?”

“Princess –“

“I know he loves you,” rushed Lyanna. “I have read a letter of his. He confessed love to you. Whether you love him or not, I do not care. But I do not wished to be embarrassed furthermore. His love for you, what he did today with Cersei Baratheon, I cannot take it anymore. If he plans on doing something else, please tell me. Princess, please.”

Elia gaped at her for a moment. She heard the rush, the panic and the shakiness of Lyanna’s voice. She seemed even smaller now. She was just a young girl that was forced to marry at a tender young age to a man she hardly knew, and a Targaryen at that. Elia pitied her very much.

Elia dropped her voice down low. “Lady Stark, listen to me carefully.” Lyanna’s eyes widened at being addressed as such. She is a Stark foremost above anything else. “If Rhaegar harms you, or if he shames you in any way again, send word and I will protect you in Dorne. In Dorne, he will not harm you nor will he touch you again.”

Lyanna smiles at her. “Do not be foolish, Elia. He is a Targaryen. He can do as he pleases. I just wish to know before it happens.” She looks to see Arthur dancing with Ashara and smiles. “You are lucky to have a husband like Ser Arthur. He is a good man. Perhaps there will be a match in the future with our children. If your children are anything like you or Arthur, I will be happy to see my son marry a daughter of yours.”

“Perhaps,” nodded Elia.

Lyanna gave her one last smile before leaving the table. 

* * *

 

Elia had found the castle’s library quite easily and was met with a pacing Rhaegar.

“You called me your prince,” he said at once.

“Aye, I did,” said Elia, nodding and coming forward, closer to him.

He sighed. “I am happy with Lyanna. She has given me Aegon and for that, I am grateful.”

“But you do not desire her.”

Rhaegar nodded. “I did not want her at first. She was much younger than me and I knew she did not want me as well. I desired another.”

“My Prince –“

“I know you do not wish for me as I have done for you, Elia,” whispered Rhaegar, stopping her.  “But that was a long time ago. I love only my Lyanna. She is the mother of my child and the future children she will bear for me. I may have once bared a great love for you, but Lyanna now resides in my heart. No one else.”

Elia nods. “But what of Cersei Baratheon?”

“I was merely awarding her with the crown out of sorrow and grief. I have spoken to her and she has poured her heart out to me about her married life. She does not love Robert Baratheon and nor does he love her. He frequents the brothels near his castle, sires bastards while she has grieved over many miscarriages. I pitied her, Elia. I only wish to give her everything she has once desired. She deserves as much.”

“There are other ways to honour women like Cersei, Rhaegar. You could not have done it publicly and shame your wife in the process.”

“I understand, Elia. But I was merely honouring her.”

“Very well,” said Elia. “Then why have you called me here?”

Rhaegar gestured to a spot in the library near the window. There were two chairs already there. “Please, have a seat.” Once seat, Rhaegar continued. “I wish to offer you a spot on my small council.”

She was not expecting that to come from him.

“Excuse me, my prince?”

“More specifically, the Hand of the King,” said Rhaegar. “Now, of course, this is not now. I am merely gathering up lords for my small council when I ascend to the throne. I believe that you will do great as Hand of the King. You are slowly taking over your mother’s duties. I have heard the whispers of how minimal your mother’s responsibilities are. Please think over it, Princess Elia. I believe that you will do great as the Hand.”

“The realm will not accept a woman as Hand, and a Dornish one at that. Everyone will believe that you are making a terrible decision in trusting a Dornish woman.”

Rhaegar smiles at her unnervingly. “I will deal with the whispers when the time comes, Elia. I want you to think my offer over.”

“Very well,” said Elia, nodding. “I will think it through.”

“Excellent,” said Rhaegar, standing up at once. “Everything is falling into place, at last. Good night, princess. I hope your journey back home is safe and swift.”

“Thank you, my prince,” said Elia, standing as well. “I wish that same for you and your family.” 

* * *

 

“Hand of the King?” repeated Arthur. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Arthur, I am quite sure,” said Elia, sighing. She laid beside him in bed on her side as she watched her husband’s confused face. “Rhaegar Targaryen seems to be planning something. Of what, I do not know.”

“Do… do you think he plans on rebelling against his father?” whispered Arthur.

Elia sat up and looked at him. “He will not be foolish to do so,” she said. “And do not speak of such things, Arthur. We do not know who is listening so far up North. We are not in Dorne.”

“I understand, Elia, but why else would he be gathering up his small council?” asked Arthur, sitting up as well.

“The King might be ill,” said Elia. “He could be planning for the future.”

“Or did he plan for the King to be ill,” said Arthur.

“Do not be foolish,” said Elia. “Rhaegar is smarter than this.”

“And yet he crowned a married woman Queen of Love and Beauty over his own wife,” said Arthur. “He has made an enemy of the Stormlands, the North, and possibly the Vale all in one day. Robert Baratheon will not forget a slight like this, and nor will Tywin Lannister if people continue to whisper vile thoughts of Lady Baratheon and Rhaegar.”

Elia sighed. “Let us pray that this will all pass. I do not like to think that another Targaryen has been touched with the madness.”

“Aye,” nodded Arthur as Elia laid beside him once more with her head on his chest. “I scarcely like to think what will happen if the prince follows along that path.”   

* * *

 

Robert had travelled north towards the Vale to visit Jon Arryn and Ned Stark, and Cersei had been happy to be free of his presence. He had been over-bearing and a nuisance since their time at the tourney all those months ago. He seemed even more determined to get a child in her, but, thankfully, her womb had not quicken with his seed. She shivered at the thought of carrying his child. Another Robert running around, fucking everything with teats.

She thought back to the tourney. It should have been her that married Rhaegar Targaryen, her silver prince. He was ever so beautiful and sweet as he listened to her when she poured her heart out, crying as she wished for a husband to love her so. He too was married to someone who he did not love, or he would not have crowned her.

Oh, her crown. Robert had thrown it on the ground as they left Harrenhal. Cersei had not shed a tear, but she wished to push him off his horse and beat him with his hammer. How dare he destroy the crown Rhaegar has given her when he has not gifted her a single jewel since their wedding?

Cersei clenched her fists. She hated Robert. She hated him with every inch of her body. He dared go out and humiliate her while she stays in the castle acting like an obedient, foolish wife? He is not the man she thought when they were married.

He was handsome and ever the sight of the warrior himself, she thought herself lucky when he proclaimed that he will love and protect her always. She thought he spoke the truth and she fell in love with his laughing smile and blue eyes. But her love for him soon extinguished when she learning of his whoring ways. Had she not been enough for him? She was Tywin Lannister’s daughter and the most beautiful woman in all Seven Kingdoms, and yet Robert would rather spend his time with whores than with her.

Cersei flicked her wine glass away angrily and stood up. She opens the door to her chambers and soon walks down the hall and finds herself outside, away from the castle.

She walks along the shore of this miserable castle with the moonlight above her. There is no beauty at Storm’s End, not like Casterly Rock, where it glowed all day long. She longed for the Sunset Sea and the warmth of her father’s castle. She looked out into Shipbreaker Bay and sighed.

She hears someone approaching behind her and prepares herself for Stannis to berate her for being outside or for Renly to come ask her to play some silly game. She puts on a smile for the one of the Baratheon brothers she expects and turns around.

“Lady Cersei.”

The voice is so delicate and so soft. It cannot belong to a Baratheon. Cersei gasps as Rhaegar slowly approaches her, taking the hood off his face. He looks beautiful under the moonlight. She sees a horse a few feet behind him with a member of the Kingsguard as well, watching them with his hand on his sword.

“Prince Rhaegar!” exclaimed Cersei. “How – how – what are you – “

“Lady Cersei,” said Rhaegar, taking her hand in his as she blushed. Her silver prince has come to her. “I wish to take you away from Storm’s End, if it pleases you.”

“Take me away?” whispered Cersei.

“Beautiful Cersei,” whispered Rhaegar, gently reach out towards her face, stroking her golden her and then her cheek. His hand was so tender and loving. “My father was a fool to reject your father’s proposal.”

Cersei smiled at his words and she wanted to cry. It should have been her who wedded Rhaegar Targaryen, not that Northern, flat-chested girl.

“Thank you, my prince,” said Cersei.

“Do you love me, beautiful Cersei? Do you love me so?”

Cersei nodded. “I do love you, my sweet silver prince. I have loved you since the tourney at Lannisport, since you asked me to dance with you.”

“I remember that night,” said Rhaegar. “You were ever so beautiful in your golden gown.” He paused, as though reminiscing. “Come with me, Lady Cersei. Take my hand. I will make you happy. I will give you the children you crave for and the life you deserve. Come with me, Cersei.”

Her name sounds so lovely in her voice. He goes to his horse and sits upon it with his hand stretched out to her.

“I – I cannot,” said Cersei. She desperately wanted to go with him. She wanted him to take her far away to a beautiful land with no one else. But Robert... “I am married to someone else, my prince. I am married and I am ruined. I cannot leave.”

“I love you, my lady,” said Rhaegar, so desperate for her love, for her approval. “I have loved you since the tourney. Come with me, Lady Cersei. Come with me.”

Cersei looks at her prince’s outstretched hand and she knows what her heart truly wants, what it needs. She takes his hand as he hoists her up on his horse, leaving Storm’s End and Robert behind her for good. She will be with her love, Rhaegar, and she will give him beautiful dragon princes and princesses. She will make her prince happy.


	5. The Queen of Westeros

Elia watches Arthur practice in the training yard with Aliandria in her arms. Every time Arthur disarms a squire, Aliandria claps for her father, though she is too young to understand what has happened. All she knows is that papa won, and that is good enough for her.

Arthur finally takes a break, making his way over to Elia and his little one. He picks up Aliandria as she squeals in delight. “Papa! Papa!”

Arthur kisses her cheek as well as Elia’s.

“How is our other little one?” asked Arthur, placing his hand over her bump.

“Maester Caleotte says that the babe is comings along finely,” said Elia. “But strongly advises me to keep off my feet for the time being.”

“And you have chosen to ignore him,” stated Arthur with a playful smile on his lips. He knows her too well.

“No,” said Elia as she huffed. “I am actually heading to my chambers right now. Aliandria wanted to see you practice.”

“Come, I shall escort you back to our chambers,” said Arthur, extending his arm towards her.

They walked together peacefully with Aliandria in Arthur’s arms. She was the delight of both mother and father, and Elia was happy to see her becoming an older sister. Whether the babe was a boy or girl, both parents would cherish them.

Suddenly Arielle appeared upon them.

“Come with me at once.”

The three of them walked to Arielle’s study. Arielle in great speed while Elia and Arthur lagging behind. Once they reach the study, a wet-nurse takes Aliandria from Arthur and soon leaves. Oberyn and Ashara are already there, each confused and whispering to each other. Two guards take watch as Arielle order them to make sure no one else enters.

“Mother, what is the matter?” Oberyn asks at once. “Why have you called us here?”

Arielle stands upon them and sighs. “What I say is not an official letter from the royal family, but a letter from an old friend, Rhaella.”

Arthur straightens up in his seat and fidgets rather uncomfortably. Elia raises her eyebrows. She looks towards Oberyn and he shrugs. A letter from a Targaryen, friend or not, is not a good sign.

Arielle unrolls a piece of parchment and reads to them the contents of the letter.

_“My dear friend,_

_My son has made a grave mistake, one that cannot be undone. He has shamed his wife once again and has kidnapped Cersei Baratheon from her home of Storm’s End. I do not know what to do now. My husband is livid and Lyanna has grown estranged, seeking solace with a heart tree, away from everyone. I do not understand why he has put us all in danger, but I call upon you, my dear friend, to help me in such times. If the realm goes to war, and I pray that such a thing shall not happen, promise me my son and grandson can find refuge in Dorne, and that you will look after them. I see that nothing good will come from this and Aerys seems to descend more into madness. Promise me you will take care of my boys. They are innocent in all of this and I fear for what Aerys might do to them. Aegon can barely walk by himself and I cannot shield Viserys any longer to what is happening._

_If the seal for this letter has been broke, burn this letter at once._

_I shall see you once again, my friend. Hopefully when all of this is in the past._

_Rhaella Targaryen_

“He is mad!” exclaimed Oberyn. “He is his father!”

“Oberyn!” hissed Arielle, glaring at her son.

“Mad Prince Rhaegar! Why steal away a married woman? Nothing good will come of this. What does he hope to achieve?” Oberyn slammed his fist on the table as Arielle took in a deep breath.

“I do not know, Oberyn,” said Arielle, frowning at him. “I do not correspond with the prince. But there is something else. Elia, Rhaegar’s wife has sent you a letter as well.”

Elia’s eyebrows raised as Arielle passed her a small roll of parchment. The seal was that of House Targaryen and House Stark, Lyanna’s own personal seal. Elia broke the seal and slowly read the letter. The lettering was slanted and rushed.

_Did you know of this?_

Elia read the short letter out loud and Ashara groaned.

“How could you have known that Rhaegar was to kidnap Cersei Baratheon?” asked Ashara.

Elia and Arthur glanced at each other. Arthur once again fidgeted in his seat before saying, “Rhaegar has officially asked Elia to be part of his small council once he ascends to his throne.”

Oberyn gives a low whistle as Ashara’s eyes widened.

“He did what?” asked Arielle, her voice dangerously low.

Elia nodded and Arielle looked disbelieved at her. Arielle makes her way over to the doors to the study, opens them up, whispers something to the guards and closes them once more.

“Have you told anyone of this?” Arielle asks Elia, standing tall and proud, she was still the ruling Princess of Dorne.

“No.”

“Good,” said Arielle, taking a sign of relief. “You shall tell no one else of this. If word gets out that Rhaegar Targaryen is gathering up members of _his_ small council, this will not end well, especially with the kidnapping of Cersei Baratheon. Word will get back to King Aerys and he will suspect a rebellion against him. He has already been touched with the Targaryen madness, we do not need to fuel the madness any further.” 

* * *

 

Rhaella watches over Viserys as he tries to help Aegon on his short, stubby legs. Viserys has been adamant into seeing that Aegon will soon walk without falling flat on his behind. He wishes for a companion to play with him, to run with him and is determined to make sure it is Aegon.

She signs happily at the sight of her sweet boys and slowly places her hand on her swelling stomach. Once she was beautiful with silver hair and violet eyes of her dear mother. She turned heads at court and she knew it well. But she had eyes for another while her father married her to her brother. Married life with Aerys has been difficult. There was no fondness between them, even as children they barely played together, and with marriage, their relationship kept deteriorating furthermore. Her only small comfort is knowing that he will not strike her while she is with child.

There is a knock on the door and Ser Jaime enters her chambers. He dips down in a small curtsey before saying, “Queen Rhaella, I am here to escort you to dinner.”

Rhaella gives him her hand and he takes it carefully and delicately. Though she had reservations about Tywin Lannister’s son being part of the Kingsguard, he has proven himself to be kind and valiant towards her and the children. He has even become Viserys’s favourite knight in the short time he has been here.

She takes Aegon in her arms as Viserys takes a hold of her free hand. The four of them walk towards the hall while Viserys chatters with Ser Jaime about Aemon the Dragonknight. Aegon sit on her arms peacefully as he plays with a strand of her hair.

Everyone is already there and they stare at her as she walks to her seat beside Aerys. The wet-nurse has taken Aegon and Viserys is about to sit down beside her when Aerys says, “Viserys.”

Rhaella is still and clutches her gown. What does he want with her sweet boy? He barely calls upon Viserys and she fears the worst. Her sweet boy, her brother shall not harm him.

“Sit beside me, my boy,” said Aerys, gesturing to his other side. Lyanna’s eyes widen as Viserys sits between King Aerys and Princess Lyanna. He sits on Rhaegar’s seat. 

* * *

 

She had never given Brandon Stark much thought. She had seen him when he came for Aegon’s first nameday and barely spoke to him during Rhaegar’s wedding. He was kind enough and with a rugged, handsome face. They called him ‘The Wild Wolf.’ She now understands why.

“Rhaegar!”

Rhaella jumps up in fright as Viserys stops reading quietly to Aegon. She turns towards Ser Lewyn Martell. He looks at her for a mere moment before saying, “I shall see what is going on. Jaime, stand guard.”

Ser Jaime nods as Lewyn leaves her chambers.

“Rhaegar! Come out and die!”

“Viserys, take Aegon and come to me,” whispered Rhaella, reaching out towards her son. Viserys carries Aegon in his skinny arms and talks towards Rhaella when a shrilling scream echoes throughout the castle. Viserys almost drops Aegon when Jaime takes the baby away from him. Aegon immediately begins crying, his face turning red with tears covering his face.

“Brandon! Brandon!”

Rhaella holds Viserys close, realizing that it was Brandon Stark who had yelled for Rhaegar and it was Lyanna who had screamed for him.

Lewyn had come back into her chamber with a hysteric Lyanna who trashed against him, yelling, screaming and crying for her brother.

“Take the children to the nursey at once!” Lewyn barked at Jaime, who acted at once. Viserys looked reluctant to leave a raving Lyanna behind but follows once Rhaella tells Jaime to take her son’s hand.

It was then when Ser Lewyn explained what had transpired while Lyanna cries in the corner of the chamber, fending off any comfort. Brandon had come looking to duel Rhaegar and was instead met with the goldcloaks. He was dragged into the castle bloody and beaten alongside his companions.

“He will have them killed,” whispered Rhaella. 

* * *

 

Aerys soon sent words for the fathers of Brandon and his companions who Rhaella learns are Ethan Glover, Kyle Royce, Elbert Arryn and Jeffory Mallister. At night, she can hear Lyanna crying and begging to the gods for Brandon’s life before cursing the cruel gods.

Her father will be here soon, knowing that his son and daughter are in danger will fuel his will power even more to reach King’s Landing in time.

Rhaella has come to the sourly conclusion that the gods are truly cruel. Her septa had always told her that if prayed to the Seven, her prayers would be heard.

She had prayed to the Maiden for Ser Bonifer Hasty and true love to steal her away, but her father had given her Aerys instead. She had prayed to the Mother for sons and daughters to fill the castle, but had suffered many miscarriages and stillbirths.

She has prayed to the Crone to guide Aerys into the path of greatness, but instead has become madness itself. She had once prayed to the Warrior, the Smith and the Father to give her strength to endure Aerys and has met with blows and backhands.

She now prays to the Stranger, her only hope to end this lunacy once and for all. 

* * *

 

“King Aerys requests your attendance.”

Rhaella raised her eyebrows at Lewyn Martell. Aerys has never requested anything of her since the beginning of their marriage. He has demanded and took from her, but never has requested.

Lewyn clears his throat. “He wishes for your attendance at once, my queen.”

Rhaella signs and puts down her book. She takes Lewyn’s offered hand and leaves the study at once.

“What is my brother planning on doing, Ser?” asked Rhaella quietly.

Lewyn looks at her and squeezes her hand without answering.

Rhaella does not push her question further.

“When all of this is over, I would like for Arielle to come visit,” she told him. “I have missed her dearly and I believe Lyanna and Elia will get along finely. You can finally meet your sister’s granddaughter.”

“Aliandria,” he whispered. “My sister says she is the image of Elia and the Maiden reborn. Elia says she is nothing like the Maiden and is much like Oberyn. Seven save us all if she is my nephew reincarnated.”

Rhaella and Lewyn laugh quietly.

“I would like to see my family, my queen,” said Lewyn. “They are so far away while I am...”

“Here,” whispered Rhaella. If given the choice, Rhaella would live in Dorne with her dear friend. She would be far away from King’s Landing, from Aerys, and from the whispers of court. She would spend all day with Arielle in the Water Gardens, watching the children grow like weeds.

The hall was quiet. Aerys was sitting on his throne with Ser Jaime behind him. The only members of the Kingsguard that were present were that of Ser Lewyn and Ser Jaime. The others were nowhere to be found. Aerys sent Ser Gerold Hightower, Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Jonothor Darry to go searching for her son while Ser Oswell Whent was watching over the children. Members of the goldcloaks were present. Their presence made her feel uneasy.

“Took you long enough, _wife_.”

Aerys sneered at her as she took her seat beside the throne with her hands folded on her lap. Soon enough, Lyanna appears before the Iron Throne. Her cheeks were hollow, face red and hair in a mess. Her shoulders were shaking and she was trying to keep herself from crying anymore.

Aerys smirks at Lyanna’s miserable figure and stands up. “Bring them in!”

Aerys gets rid of Brandon’s companions and fathers without a second thought. They die screaming and crying and begging for mercy. They did not have a choice. Aerys called for his weapon and… it was done. Lyanna begins to sob, knowing what will soon happen. She could not contain herself anymore.

Lord Rickard and Brandon Stark are the last ones to be called forward. Brandon has watched his companions burn and he still stands tall and proud, as though laughing at the face of death and daring it to come forward. He is the embodiment of a wolf that one.

“Brandon Stark,” said Aerys, spitting the name out as if it was poison. “You came to my palace and demanded to see my son, claiming that you could ever harm him. He is a Targaryen, boy. A mere wolf cannot harm a dragon.”

Brandon inhaled sharply.

“You are hereby charged with treason against your king and your prince,” continued Aerys. “You wish to kill my son – attempted regicide. You and your father have been plotting against us, haven’t you, along with your sister?”

Lyanna’s grey eyes widened. “No –“

“Silence!” Aerys voice echoed around the hall and back to them. “You have no right to speak to me! I am your king! By the order of King Aerys Targaryen the Second of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, how do you plead?”

Aerys leaned forward with a smile that made the hairs on Rhaella’s arms stand up. He truly was the Mad King.

“I do not such things,” said Rickard. “My son and I are innocent, as the old gods and new know of it. I request trial by combat.”

He stands tall and proud, his face unwavering even as Lyanna is brought to her knees, sobbing loudly.

Aerys’s smile grows and he mutters something under his breath and for a second Rhaella thought he said, “Excellent.”

One of the goldcloaks came forward and looped a noose leather strap around his neck as another one seized Rickard Stark, tying his hands behind his back. A sword was thrown in front of Brandon, away from his grasp, as Aerys says, “Stark, your champion is your son, and a Targaryen champion is fire, as it has always been. If you are innocent, you will not burn.”

Rhaella could not distinguish Lyanna and Lord Rickard’s screams as they echoed off the walls. She watches in horror as Brandon struggled to reach his sword against the strap around his neck to save his father. The smell of burnt flesh filled the hall as Lyanna continued to scream, struggling against Lewyn. Rhaella was sure that Lyanna would have gone into the fire to save her father, the Lord of Winterfell, the Warden of the North. He was not some mere lord or servant.

Rickard’s screams soon died out and Brandon’s head hung lifelessly against the strap. Lyanna’s voice became hoarse and raw. She was still crying, sobbing into the floor and banging her fists against the marble.

“Bring me the wolf spawn! Bring me Aegon!”

“No!”

Aerys gave her a backhand against her mouth as Lyanna screamed once more.

“Please! He is my son! Have mercy!”

“ENOUGH!” shouted Aerys. “Enough! I am your king! Bring me his head or you all will burn with him! All of you are traitors to your king! Especially you!” Aerys enclosed his hand around Rhaella’s neck, causing her to gag. “You have been unfaithful to me since our wedding! You have been unfaithful, whoring around the castle like a little slut. The gods did not want a bastard on the throne and I will make sure of it,” he sneered at her face. “Lannister! Bring me Aegon the false! Bring me the supposed grandson my good-daughter presented to me, the whore. He will come forward and pay for the crimes of his father and his family! He will come forward and burn in front of his mother’s eyes and hear her scream for mercy! He will burn and if he was of the dragon’s blood, he will –“

Rhaella fell backwards as Lyanna screamed as Aerys stopped, his throat hitched. His small gasp filled the room as Jaime slashed his sword against King Aerys Targaryen’s back. Aerys turned around slowly to see Jaime’s shocked face mirroring his own. The King opened his mouth, but Ser Jaime put his sword though his heart. Aerys took his last breath.

The hall was quiet. Rhaella looked up at Jaime. The gods have listened to her prayers in the form of Tywin Lannister’s son. The Stranger has listened to her.

The goldcloaks yelled and charged forward but Lewyn Martell stepped beside the young knight. Though they were outnumbered seven to two, the two members of the Kingsguard had more skill than those of the goldcloak.

Rossart the alchemist and that snake ran towards the doors, attempting to flee when Ser Oswell Whent opened the doors. Rossart screamed and the goldcloaks divided, charging at each of the Kingsguard.

Ser Oswell Whent cut through the three goldcloaks as easily as a knife cutting through butter. Ser Lewyn Martell cuts his own down to shreds while Ser Jaime struggles, shaken at what he had done but Oswell helps him. Rossart was slew by Lewyn.  

“What has happened?” Oswell asked, his voice hard and raised. He then found Aerys’s bloody body lying on the ground and looked at Jaime and Lewyn. “What happened?”

Ser Jaime says nothing as he stares at the body of Aerys. Ser Lewyn hesitates before saying, “Oswell –“

He breaks off, struggling. Rhaella finally stands up and Oswell turns to her, searching for an answer.

She takes a deep breath before saying, “No true knight stands by when women and children are at harm’s way. He wished to burn Aegon. Punishment for Rhaegar and Lyanna.”

Oswell’s eyes widened at her words. He then looks towards Lyanna, crouching on the ground with wide eyes. She was a complete mess. She saw her father and brother murdered in front of her eyes, unable to do anything, and heard Aerys call for her son’s execution.

“He called for Aegon’s death?” he asks, unable to comprehend.

“Yes,” whispered Jaime, speaking at last.

Oswell sighed and looked at Ser Lewyn and Jaime intently.

“I do not know which one of you did this and I do not wish to know, though I have a good idea. I am going to leave the hall before our white cloak becomes soiled furthermore. The less I know of this matter, the better.” He then looks towards Rhaella. “I am glad to see that you are safe, your grace. I hope you sleep peacefully tonight.”

Oswell Whent leaves the hall and Rhaella looks at the dead pyromancer and shivers. Had Aerys survived, he would have visited her chambers tonight. She rubs her belly. A part of her believe Oswell is relieved Aerys is longer alive, especially after him wanting to kill Aegon, an innocent child.

Rhaella, Ser Jaime and Ser Lewyn all look at each other, unsure of what to do. Rhaella looked at Lyanna to see her in shock of what has occurred in this hall. So young to lose her brother and father. A young child thrown into the fires of King’s Landing. They have yet to destroy her, a small condolence.

Yet all Rhaella can think of is Aerys’s death and how the Stranger has gifted her at last. 

* * *

 

_Arielle,_

_Come to King’s Landing at once, my friend. Please. I need you more than ever. Please come at once._

_Rhaella_  

* * *

 

Arielle reads Rhaella’s note with a heavy heart. She kisses the top of Daemon’s head and brushed what little silver hair her grandson had. He looked up at her with those violet eyes and Arielle smiled at him.

“Looks like we will be making a trip to King’s Landing soon, my love,” she whispered. “May the gods protect us from what is to come.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can tell, I have taken certain liberties with canon. Hopefully for the better.


	6. King's Landing

Ashara remembers the lessons Arielle had given her and Elia years ago. She had told them that a woman’s battle is in the birthing room, but also said that their words are their weapons at court. They must tread carefully. One wrong move and other will know of your weaknesses. Ashara listens carefully to Princess Arielle’s words. She admires the princess as much as she does her own lady mother. But Elenei is back at Starfall and Arielle is the one to watch over her, teaching her how to be a lady without weaknesses.

Ashara never thought that she would be at the royal court one day. The trip to King’s Landing is long and tiring, but the Dornish endured, they always have.

The trip did take a toll on Elia, but she did not dare show it outside of Dorne while surrounded by these Northerners. Ashara did her best to make her friend comfortable and looked after Aliandria and Daemon as best as she could. But the little princess is as fussy as ever and the prince only wanted Elia. She thanks the old gods and new that Oberyn’s girls were not on this trip.

The welcoming party at King’s Landing was small and none looked too happy at the arrival of the Dornish Company.

Dowager Queen Rhaella Targaryen rushed forward to embrace Princess Arielle. They whisper to each other before the Queen turns her guests.

“It is nice of you all to come on such short notice,” she says to them. “I hope your stay at King’s Landing is pleasant. This is my son, Prince Viserys Targaryen, my good-daughter, Lyanna Targaryen, and my grandson, Aegon Targaryen.”

Prince Viserys comes forward and gives them all a small curtsy. Ashara smiles at the little prince while Elia does as well. He is cute and adorable. The image of this mother.

“Thank you, Queen Rhaella,” Elia says, stepping forward. “This is my husband, Ser Arthur Dayne, my companion, Lady Ashara Dayne, my brother, Prince Oberyn Martell, my daughter, Princess Aliandria Martell, and my son, Prince Daemon Martell.”

“It is very nice to meet you all. Please come inside,” said Rhaella. “The maids will show you to your room.”

Elia curtsies in gratitude towards the Queen as they all walk inside the palace. Ashara looks towards Lyanna Stark and sees the girl looking at Elia. The look on the Stark girl’s face made her uneasy. Ashara steps in front of Elia and gives the girl a strained smile. She will not harm or blame her princess for what has happened. 

* * *

 

Arielle follows Rhaella to her chambers with Lewyn behind her. She is grateful to be with her brother and friend once more, but this trip comes with discomfort.

“Rhaella, what is wrong?”

“Aerys is dead,” Rhaella said quickly.

“I am aware –“

“I did not finish. Aerys is dead,” she repeated. She then dropped her voice low and came closer to Arielle, who can feel the breath of the Queen. “Aerys was slain by one of the members of the Kingsguard.”

Arielle’s eye widened and she turned towards Lewyn who shook his head. Arielle sighed. She wished to be back in Dorne, but she was needed here.

Arielle spoke loudly as she said, “Tell me, dear friend, how did your husband die? The details are rather ambiguous in Dorne.”

Rhaella hesitated for a moment, confused, before saying, “He had burned in the fire, believing that he would emerge as a dragon. He took the pyromancer with him as well as members of the goldcloaks.”

“How unfortunate,” said Arielle dryly. “Long live the King, I suppose.”

“Long live the King,” sighed Rhaella.

“Long live the Queen,” whispered Lewyn from where he stood guard.

Arielle then took a sip of her wine and said, “Has word reached Prince Rhaegar? I am sure he will want to come back and reclaim his throne.”

Rhaella huffed. “I am not sure where he is, Arielle. I do not know if he has heard of his father’s death. I do not know if he is coming at all.”

“So what are you to do now? Crown Aegon until he comes back? It could be months or years!”

“I know,” said Rhaella. “But Lyanna does not wish to crown Aegon. She does not want Kingship to be bestowed upon him, especially after Aerys burned her father and brother in front of him. He even called for Aegon’s death. She does not want Aegon near the throne.”

“But he is the Heir to the Throne.”

“By birth,” said Rhaella. “I believe she wishes he was a Stark by name instead. The Starks have lived a peaceful life, barely travelling below the Neck until now.” Rhaella sighs. “She worries what will happen if Cersei Lannister travels to court with Rhaegar. She fears for Aegon. He is all she has left.” 

* * *

 

_Rhaegar returned back to King’s Landing with two members of the Kingsguard. There was no welcoming company as King Rhaegar Targaryen sat upon his throne._

_Blood was drawn when he readjusted himself._  

* * *

 

Elia almost did not believe the whispers that Rhaegar had returned to court, but he then sent her a request, asking her to join him in his studies. He smiled brightly at her with his face half-shaven. His eyes were hollow, hair longer and unkempt. She remembered Aerys after he asked her to take a seat.

“I almost did not believe you returned to court, my prince,” said Elia. “Or should I say king?”

Rhaegar nodded. “Once I heard what had happened to my father, I came at once.”

“I see,” said Elia. “Have you seen your mother or your wife?”

“Yes, I did. They… they did not seem too eager to embrace me. I fear I have a lot to do to make up for what I have done. I am determined to be a good husband to Lyanna, a good father to Aegon, and a good King for Westeros. My first order of business is to choose my Hand. Have you given thought to my offer?”

Elia sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. The man has been back at court for less than two days and he was already irritating her. “Barely,” she said, taking a sip of wine. “I had a family and a neck of land to rule, Rhaegar. I had a son.”

Rhaegar’s eyes widened. “You did?”

“Yes,” said Elia. “Daemon. Aliandria has quite taken to him. Taking care of him when she can before growing bored and chasing one of her cousins.”

“Daemon? It is a Targaryen name, princess.”

“Arthur’s great-grandfather was named Daemon and he once wielded Dawn. I believe the name suits my son. Do you not?”

Rhaegar ignores her question and drowns the rest of his wine.

“Have you come to a decision?”

Elia thought of it. Being Hand was to be the second-most powerful person in the kingdom. Some say it was the Hand that truly ruled over Westeros while the King does as he pleases. She could rule over Westeros without the title of royalty. Dorne would flourish. Tywin Lannister, though she did not think kindly of the man, did well as Hand and some said _he_ should have been king instead of the Mad King.

But she would be Rhaegar’s Hand. A man that kidnapped Cersei Baratheon for who knows what. If she were to be Hand, it had to be with someone she respected.

“If I accept, you must tell me what had happened with Cersei Baratheon.”

Rhaegar sighed.

“I must know if I am be your hand,” said Elia. “I have to understand my king if I am to council him.”

Rhaegar looked at Elia for a moment as she took another sip of wine. She thought of Cersei, young and beautiful, and Lyanna, broken and alone. She pities them both.

“I rode to Storm’s End with Harlan Grandison. He’s an old man. Barely survived a night after Cersei has accepted me. I asked Barristan, Gerold and Jonothor sent his body to his family after they had found me. She came with me, Elia, willingly. I love her in a way I do not with Lyanna. She is opinionated and I feel challenged with her. She makes me happy and will soon bear my child. Ser Jonothor is guarding her. I am in love with two women, Elia. Is that so wrong?”

Elia smiles, though it holds no warmth. “I do not know what it means to love two men at the same time, and I do not wish to know. I love Arthur with all my heart, as well as my children. I cannot imaging leaving any of them.”

“And what are you implying, Elia?”

“What have you done with Lady Baratheon?”

“She is in a safe location, guarded. She is carrying my child and I ensured her safety.”

“But you did not do so of your own wife and child,” snapped Elia. “You left them here with your father, who had lost his mind! He called for the death of your son! Your wife watched her father and her brother die while you were out there – out there fucking someone else!” Elia drowned the rest of her cup and stood up, slammed her cup on the table. “I accept your proposition of Hand.”

Rhaegar raised an eyebrow, twirling his wine. “And what makes you think I will accept you as my Hand after that?”

“Because you still love me,” Elia stated boldly. Rhaegar was taken back. “Try to deny it and you will only be fooling yourself. You were wretched when I mentioned my son and even more so when you heard his name, were you not? I do not care for you love, it makes no difference to me. But you will accept me as your Hand for so you are a greedy man, Rhaegar Targaryen. You are very greedy for love and whatever else you so desire. But know that I am doing this out of duty for the realm.”

Rhaegar stood up and said, “I suppose that is the best I can hope for from a Hand. I do not appreciate your outburst against your King, but I cannot think of anyone else to be my Hand.”

Elia scoffs. “You must really love me, Rhaegar, if you want to keep me around. No matter, I will do my duty as Hand to the realm, and you will do yours, I hope.”

Rhaegar glared at her. “I am not my father, Elia.”

 _You have yet to disprove that statement, Rhaegar_ , thought Elia as she leaves his studies. 

* * *

 

There was a ceremony for her acceptance of the Hand of the King. She did not expect it to be so grand, but she knows that Rhaegar wishes to make amends with the lords and ladies of Westeros. This ceremony was the start of many things.

Elia sat uncomfortably beside Rhaegar as Tywin Lannister, Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon sat together. She has never felt such hatred coming from a group of men as them. She sipped her wine and did her best to keep her eyes on her family. Arthur was feeding Aliandria while Arielle conversed with Rhaella. Ashara was sitting next to Ned, but Elia could tell that they were not having a god time together, after all that has happened. Oberyn had gone back to Dorne after she had told him that she was Hand. A Martell needed to be in Sunspear.

Rhaegar stood up and tapped his glass. The hall was silent immediately.

“Lord and Ladies, thank you all for coming to King’s Landing for such a grand occasion. I am proud to announce that Princess Elia Nymeros Martell of Dorne has accepted the position of Hand of the King.”

There was applause, but none so great. The lords did not seem too happy that a woman was to be Hand. This did not shock her one bit.

Rhaegar than cleared his throat. “I understand that some of you have reservations about me on the throne, but I promise you I will do my best to do right by the realm. I will start right after this grand feast prepared for you by some of the best cooks in all of the Seven Kingdoms. Please, Enjoy!” 

* * *

 

Elia sourly did not enjoy being in the same room as Rhaegar, Tywin Lannister, Eddard Stark, and Robert Baratheon in the Tower of the Hand. She felt… she felt a war coming.

“Thank you all for joining me here tonight,” said Rhaegar, adjusting in his seat. “We have matters to attend to.”

“Where is my wife?” snapped Robert, his face red and his knuckles turning white.

“Safe,” offered Rhaegar. “She is safe and happy, Robert. Please, allow me to say my peace and offer you something in return for Cersei.”

Elia scrunched her eyebrows. He’s acting as though Cersei was some horse to be traded when old and worn out.

“What is it that you want, King Rhaegar?” asked Tywin. Elia almost shivered at the sound of his voice. It was exuding command and menace.

“Peace,” stated Rhaegar. “I want peace and I desire Lady Cersei with all my heart. I have spoken to the High Septon. He is willing to put aside her marriage with you, Robert, on the bases of both of you not having a child and with my persuasion. You are now free of your marriage from Cersei.” Robert raised his eyebrows. “I know that you bear no love for her, so you will get over this as soon as you marry another lady. I have spoken with Lord Hoster Tully. He is willing to consider having his eldest daughter marry you after what has happened.”

“Catelyn Tully?” asked Eddard. He sounded so sad. Elia pitied him.

“The same,” said Rhaegar. “I assume Hoster will not decline the offer. He will not be so foolish to do so.”

“And what do you plan on doing with my daughter?” asked Tywin. “Kidnapped and now unmarried, her reputation has now be ruined. She cannot hope to find another suitable husband after what has occurred.”

Rhaegar nodded. “Another lord will not accept her, but I am no mere lord, Lord Tywin. I am the King. And I will take her as my second wife as many Targaryens’ have done so before me.”

“What?” exclaimed Ned, standing up. “What about Lyanna?”

“I have yet to tell her, but I do not think she will object to expanding our family. Granted, it will take some time to get used to, I understand, but all will be fine.”

Eddard was flabbergasted. He looked at Rhaegar in bewilderment. “How could you – how could you do this to her – without her knowledge – you sit there –“He took a deep breath. “I must leave this tower. I will stay in King’s Landing for Lyanna, but I will leave within a fortnight. I have to make arrangements for my fa – I have to make arrangement.”

Rhaegar held up his hand in halt. “But I am willing to offer you something for what has happened to your family, Ned. Name it and I will do my best to give it to you.”

“I want peace,” said Ned. “Peace and I want to go home to Winterfell with Lyanna.”

Ned then walked out and Rhaegar narrowed his eyes at the door. 

* * *

 

Lyanna stared out at the sea from her window. The sea was beautiful today with the shine of the sun dancing off the waves. It was such a beautiful day. She looked down at her sewing. Though she was never the best at her lessons, her wolf looked quite nice. She plans on sewing this on a tunic for Ned before he goes back to Winterfell.

She sighs. She longs for home. She longs for actual winters, riding in the forest, praying next to the heart tree. She missed Winterfell and being a child once more. She missed Ned, Benjen, Brandon and father. She missed what she used to be.

The door to her chambers opened and Rhaegar walked in, smiling at her. She wanted to strike him.

“I was wondering if you would do me the honour of having dinner with me, Lya,” said Rhaegar. “We have not had much time alone together since I came back.”

Lyanna said nothing and turned back to her sewing. She did not want to hear anything he had to say.

“Come on, Lya. I am sorry but I want to spend some time with you. You are still my wife.”

“But I am not going to be your only wife for much longer, am I?”

Rhaegar breathe in. “Ned told you.”

“Naturally,” drawled Lyanna, working on the nose. “I am his sister. His loyalty is towards his family, as it should be.”

Rhaegar immediately came to her, touching her hand. Lyanna immediately withdrew extracted her hand away from him. She did not want him to touch her, especially after all he has done, known and unknown.

“Don’t you dare touch me,” snarled Lyanna, standing up and discarding her embroidery on the floor. “How dare you touch me after what you have done?! You have – the things that have – URGH!”

She began to walk away but Rhaegar grabbed her hand. She pushed him away and said, “I told you not to touch me! You have dishonoured me when you crowned another and humiliated me when you ran away with her! You did not even think of me or Aegon, did you? I watched my father and my brother die because of you! The Mad King called for your son’s death and you did nothing! How dare you come back and apologize! Your words mean nothing to me! I ha –“

She was immediately silenced as Rhaegar crashed his lips onto hers. She was taken back but could not move as he held her face in place as he continue to attack her lips with his. She tried her best to push him away, but he did not budge one bit. She tried to scream, but it came out as muffles.

She then remembers Rhaella, sweet Rhaella who had to endure Aerys for years. She was right all along. Rhaegar has turned her into his mother. 

* * *

 

“Ned, please talk to me,” whispered Ashara in the late hours of the night. “Please, let me help you.”

Ned shook his head. “I just wish to go home. Bury my father and brother, and never step foot in King’s Landing ever again. This place has brought nothing good to my family.”

Ashara moved closer to him on the featherbed. “Tell me, how is Winterfell? Paint a picture for me, Ned.”

Ned gave her a small smile. He truly looks handsome when he smiles. “Why don’t I show you Winterfell, my lady?”

“And travel so far up North? You would really have to persuade me to do so.”

“What if we were to get married?”

Ashara was taken back. “Married?”

Ned cleared his throat. “That is to say if you wished to marry me, of course. I will ask permission of your lord father, you brother, Arthur, and Princess Elia. I wish to marry you, Ashara. You are all I have thought about since Harrenhal. I would be a good husband. I will be a dutiful husband. I promise you. I know that you must have offers from many men, but if you consider me, I will give you a home.”

Ashara thought about it. There have been offers for her hand, but none to serious. They see her beauty – it is all they wish to see of her. She did not care much for marriage of the thought of starting a family. Her priorities have always been with Elia, Arthur and Oberyn. She envisioned herself with the Martell for the rest of her days. But she is now getting old – too old to be a companion to a mother and Princess of Dorne. They are no longer children.

“I do not know how to be a wife. But I am sure we will learn together.”

Ned’s eyes widened. “Does this mean you accept?”

“I do,” said Ashara. “I wish to marry you, Eddard Stark, and I wish to have little pups with you.”

The heart tree neat the castle was small and insignificant. She imagines something much grander in the North, but for her and Ned, it would work. Elia, Arthur, Ariella, Lyanna and the kids were present as Ashara said her vows in front of a tree as Ned clasped a cloak of Stark grey over her shoulders.   

* * *

 

“Are you sure you wish to leave me?” asked Elia, staring at Ashara as she packed her belongings. “The North is cold and I am not there, obviously.”

Ashara smiled at her. “I am sure that I love him, Elia. Please, do not worry for me, I will be fine in the icy North.”

“I am sure Ned will warm you up nicely if you ask.”

Ashara laughed as the two embraced.

“I will miss you,” said Elia. “You have been my only companion for years, my best friend and my sister.”

“I do not know what I will do without you,” whispered Ashara.

“You will be lost for all your days to come, I suspect,” said Elia as Arthur entered the chambers.

Arthur sighs as he looks at his sister. “Everything is ready and set. Lord Stark is waiting for you.”

Ashara nods and the servants get the last of her things. She embraces Arthur and they whisper quietly to each other. Ashara begins to cry softly as they leave the castle, meeting Ned at the steps.

Elia hugs her friend once more. “I will write to you as much as possible.”

“And I you,” said Ashara, squeezing Elia. “I am sure our children will be friends one day as we are to each other. I shall see you soon, my friend.”

She then turned to Arthur and kissed his cheek. “Take care, brother. I love you.”

“I love you too, Ashara,” said Arthur, squeezing her shoulders. “Send word when you are safe at Winterfell.”

“I will. Now, tell Oberyn to take care of himself and to stop being so hot-headed. Tell Aliandria that I love her dearly and please sing to Daemon at night and please tell Princess Arielle thank you for everything.”

“We will,” said Arthur, eyes red. “Take care of yourself. I hope he makes you happy.”

“He will,” said Elia. “Or he will answer to the spears of Dorne.”

The three of them laughed and Ashara looked at them both with a teary smile before then turned towards Ned, who helped her into her carriage. Ned gives them a small bow before they rode away. Ashara waved at them while Elia and Arthur did the same.

Elia kisses Arthur’s cheek when the Northern Company disappeared. She will sourly miss her friend, but she finds condolence in the fact that Ashara will happy with Ned in the North, and they are not the girls they once were. They are women and ladies of Westeros. They have duties to attend to. 

* * *

 

Cersei Lannister came to court with two bundles, Ser Jonothor by her side and two wet-nurses behind her. Elia could not believe the sight of Rhaegar embracing Cersei lovingly. She looked at Arthur, who just sighs at this point.

“My love,” said Cersei, her voice loud, “may I present to you your children, Myrcella and Joanna! The gods have blessed us with twins, my love.”

Rhaegar smiled at her declaration. “They will only be Blackfyres for a short time, my lady. I will soon have them legitimized as Targaryens.”

They embraced and kissed. Elia looked away and saw the wet-nurses walk into the castle with the twins. They had a small whisk of golden hair of a Lannister, but they did not look well. Their skin was tainted with some grey. 

* * *

 

Elia ate a quiet dinner with Arthur and her children. Aliandria had taken to believe she did not need her parent’s help with feeding her, but her face is covered the food bits and refuses help when Arthur tries to wipe them away. She rubs her face on the dress Arielle gifted her. Thank the gods Arielle is dining with her brother. Elia was quietly feeding Daemon when there was a small knock on the doors of her chamber.

Arthur sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. Elia understood his discomfort. They have not had a single night of peace in King’s Landing and Elia was getting irritated.

Ser Barristan entered to say Lyanna requested her presence for a moment and Elia started to grind her teeth.

She walked towards Lyanna’s chambers with thoughts of cursing the Queen off. She wanted one night with her family with no interruptions. It was all she wanted. Some peace and quiet in King’s Landing.

Once she entered Lyanna’s chambers, the young girl turned towards her with a glossy look on her face. She looked detached as she said, “He let her name them.”

“Come again?”

“Rhaegar,” said Lyanna. “He let his… he let his mistress name their children what she desired to and… He never let me… I am with child,” she then stated.

“Oh,” said Elia, taken back. “Well, celebrations are in order, I believe. Another child is a joyous moment to celebrate.”

“No,” whispered Lyanna. “I want none of that. Rhaella just had little Daenerys and with Cersei here… I do not want to draw any attention to this babe… Just… just promise me that this babe will be safe from Rhaegar and Cersei and the clutches of court…”

“Your grace?”

“After I have this child, I will be leaving King’s Landing. I will go back home, back to Winterfell, and leave Rhaegar with his… Cersei. He will have another child to fill some stupid prophecy of his – if he’s still wrapped up in his scrolls, the fool.”

“Scrolls?”

“You do not know?” asked Lyanna. “Rhaegar is obsessed with his scrolls and prophecies. He is much like this father and I will not stay here any longer after I have this child. He is mad, but he will not harm his children. I will ask the High Septon to put aside our marriage as he did so with Cersei and Robert and I will be safe in Winterfell. Rhaegar will ever forget he was married to me once Cersei gives him more golden haired babes. He will forget he was ever married to Lyanna Stark of Winterfell.”

“Very well,” said Elia, inclining her head. “If that is what you desire, your grace. If I may, I will head back to my chambers. Good night, your grace.”

“Yes, yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, not the best chapter I have written, but the foundations have been set for the next couple chapters.
> 
> Onto some explanations:  
> i. Ned leaves without Lyanna as she finds out she is pregnant just before he leaves and when words reaches Rhaegar, well, it would not be good...  
> ii. Rhaegar planned on getting Lyanna pregnant after Ned's little outburst at him, especially after he said he would like to leave to Winterfell with Lyanna.  
> iii. Ned does not want anything from Rhaegar.  
> iv. Lyanna's behaviour in the end stems from fear and Rhaegar's relationship with Cersei and how he lets her do certain things (ie. name their children) that he does not let Lyanna do. She believes that Rhaegar will protect Aegon and the baby she is currently pregnant with, but in the next chapter and so on, her perception with change as her pregnancy goes on. 
> 
> This chapter is certainly disappointing, I know. But I promise things will get better and more exciting.


	7. The Sun of Dorne, The She-Wolf, and The Lioness

She had hoped that with the death of his father, Rhaegar would become stronger, taking charge of the palace and becoming the leader many people had come to expect from him. But Lyanna was wrong. He was spineless when they came back from Dragonstone and he is spineless now as he takes Cersei’s words as though from the gods.

He listens to her intently at dinner, ignoring the children, his mother and Lyanna. She did not mind too much, but Rhaegar has barely looked at Aegon since returning and she knows now that he is a worthless father.

Rickard would not have done anything of this sorts. She remembers him placing her on his lap with Brandon, Ned and Benjen surrounding him as he told them tall stories of the wildings and the Starks of the old. He was full of stories, much like Nan. Rhaegar told no stories to Aegon.

Viserys tried his best to get Rhaegar’s attention, but was severely upset when Rhaegar waved him away, as though he was nothing. Rhaella took him on a walk throughout the gardens as the poor boy looked as though he was about to cry.

Lyanna excused herself, but found that she wasted her breath as Rhaegar paid her no attention as well. She took Aegon to the nursery to visit the other babes.

Daenerys was sleeping peacefully in her little cot while she could hear wheezing’s coming from Myrcella and Joanna. The maester has tried his best to cure them, but said that it was just a matter of time before their cold would past.

Lyanna looked down at the golden-haired twins. They were sickly, something Cersei Lannister dismisses at once. She sees them as strong, healthy daughters of the throne while everyone else suspects they will not live to see past their first name day.

One of them began to cough roughly. Lyanna turned towards Ser Jonothor and said, “Please get the maester, Ser. I want him to check up on Myrcella once more.”

Ser Jonothor left as Lyanna picked up Myrcella, holding the little babe against her chest and rubbing her back. The babe was warm and Lyanna prayed that they would get better soon. They maybe the daughters of Cersei Lannister, but they are mere babes.

The door then burst open and in walked Cersei Lannister, ignoring her screaming and crying children. Her eyes burned with rage as she took in the sight of Lyanna holding her daughter.

“Unhand my daughter,” growled Cersei.

Lyanna took a deep breath before passing a crying Myrcella off into her mother’s arms. Cersei cooed and bounced her daughter in her arms. “Hush now, sweetling, I am here now. There is no need to fuss.” She put Myrcella back in her cot and tended to Joanna. Once the cries had died down, Lyanna made her way out the door, intended on returning back to her chambers when Cersei said, “I know what you were doing.”

Lyanna immediately regretted turning around and saying, “And what was it?”

Cersei narrowed her eyes at Lyanna and she truly looked like a lioness ready to strike. “You tried to poison my daughters.”

Lyanna scoffed. “I did no such thing.”

“You can lie to me all you want, but the gods know the truth of the matter,” rushed Cersei, her eyes glancing at the door. “You are jealous of my daughters and the happiness they have brought to the King. You wish to take them away from you because you hate me so.”

“I did not poison your children,” said Lyanna, shaking her head. “I do not mean any harm to Myrcella or Joanna. They are babies. I do not wish to harm them, Cersei.”

Cersei then burst into tears and Lyanna stood there, unsure of what to do. Cersei Lannister stood in front of her accusing of such a monstrous act one moment and began crying soon after. She did not understand…

Someone then rushed into the room. Rhaegar came to Cersei’s aid at once, whispering sweet words and holding her close. Lyanna was disgusted.

“My love, what is wrong?”

Lyanna could not understand a word Cersei said through her blabbering. Her husband turned to her and merely said, “I think you should leave, Lyanna.”

She narrowed her eyes and stalked out of the room, cursing her dim-witted husband and his mistress under her breath. He was much like Aegon the Unworthy. There will be another Blackfyre Rebellion because of him, she is sure of it. 

* * *

“Cersei and Lyanna are not getting along,” said Rhaegar, walking around Elia’s office, picking up a small gift Ashara sent her from the North. “Cersei believes Lyanna is trying to get rid of Myrcella and Joanna.”

Elia sighed, not looking up from the letter Mace Tyrell sent her, reporting the expenses of the Reach thus far and how much they are able to loan to the throne.

“And is she?” asked Elia, writing her letter carefully.

“Gods, I hope not,” said Rhaegar, shaking his head. “Lyanna is nothing like that. She cares for children. I do not know what to do, Elia. How do I make them get along?”

Elia looked up from her letter and handed Rhaegar Mace’s letter. “The Reach has some gold to lend to the throne, but I am going to decline his offer for the time being and get a loan from The Iron Bank. The Vale owes us some money and once they pay us back, I will pay the Iron Bank back.”

Rhaegar smiles at her and takes a seat. “Very well then. How is the rest of my kingdom doing?”

“The North is unhappy as well as The Reach, though the lords and ladies are doing their best to hide it. Mace Tyrell is trying to get on the throne’s good side, even though he wished you had gone for Mina Tyrell instead of Cersei. But they will be content, as the rest of the kingdom will as well.”

Rhaegar gave her a sharp look. “And Tywin?”

“He seems… pleased for the time being. His daughter will soon the Queen, alongside Lyanna. But there have been whispers that he is not content with his heir, Tyrion.”

“Ah, Tyrion. Cersei calls him a monster.”

“And what makes him a monster? He is a child.”

Rhaegar shrugs. “His dwarfism? This is what she tells me. I have never met the boy. But I have an alternative to please Tywin Lannister. Since our first born can never inherit the throne, I offer mine and Cersei’s first born child to be his heir in place of Tyrion.”

“Are you sure? You should talk about it with Lady Cersei.”

“She will be fine with it, after all, her first son with inherit her father’s seat. And on to the matter of Cersei and Lyanna, what should I do with them?”

Elia inhaled sharply. “Separate them for the time being. Perhaps being away from each other will somehow help. Lyanna will stay at the palace, she cannot travel in her state, and Cersei will perhaps go to Dragonstone? You can visit her as much as you can and your two ladies will be away from each other.”

“Excellent!” rejoiced Rhaegar, standing up. “I shall go and make arrangements.”

While Rhaegar left to attend to his personal matters, Elia returned back to ruling Westeros on her own. 

* * *

 

 Elia saw something in Lyanna Stark that she has not seen in such a long time: happiness. Happiness as Cersei Lannister was sent to Dragonstone with her brother to protect her. She was especially happy when Rhaegar went to visit Dragonstone, though the girl tried her best not to show it. She spent most of her time outside with her son, away from Rhaegar and the wondering eyes of spiders and birds.

But Elia hated ruling in Rhaegar’s absence. She was already doing so much for him as she tried her best to heal the realm after all that has occurred. Even Arthur was frustrated with Rhaegar, not understanding what a man would not take any responsibility for what he has done.

“Because he is not a man, Arthur,” whispered Elia during the late hours of the night. “He is a dragon, and he will do as he wishes, as Targaryens have done before him.”

But she supposed Lyanna being happy for the first time since her family’s death makes up for Rhaegar’s selfishness. The months leading up to the birth of the new Targaryen child was blissful for the Queen, and Elia hoped that perhaps she had found some happiness in King’s Landing. 

* * *

 

“I think, perhaps I have spoken too soon.”

Elia looked at Lyanna in bewilderment. “What do you mean, Your Grace?”

Lyanna smiled at her as she rubbed her bump. “I do not wish to leave King’s Landing.”

“Oh,” said Elia, nodding. “It is good to see that you have found joy –“

Lyanna held up her hand. “I have not found joy in King’s Landing, Princess Elia, or at least not with my husband. No, I will stay in King’s Landing with my children. I do not trust I will be happy in Winterfell either. I will stay with my children and I will keep them safe from Cersei and her father.”

“I am sure Rhaegar will keep your children safe, Lyanna.”

“Really? I do not. Ever since running away with Cersei Lannister, Rhaegar has shown who he truly is to me. A spineless dragon. And I will not allow my children to be brought up as such. I am their mother and they are part of House Stark, whether Rhaegar wishes to acknowledge their parentage or not. They are wolves, much like my brother and father. Rhaegar will do so to remember that. He follows Cersei Lannister to Dragonstone, leaving me behind to raise Aegon and for you to rule the realm. He is no real man. He is pathetic and he is Rhaegar. I do not wish for Aegon to be like him. I rather Aegon become like Ned or Brandon or my father.”

“And what of Cersei Lannister?”

“What of her? If she ever tries to harm Aegon, she and her father will have to answer to the North.”

“And Dorne,” said Elia. Lyanna looked shocked. “Dorne will not look upon House Lannister too kindly if she dares to harm Aegon or your babe. She will answer to the spears of Dorne if she dares to try.”

Lyanna smiles at her. “Thank you, Princess Elia.” She looked out at the window thoughtfully for a moment, her smile dropping. “I do not wish kingship upon Aegon. The gods have not been kind towards Targaryen kings, even those named Aegon have not been lucky. Aegon the Usurper, taking the throne away from his sister, Aegon the Unlucky, forced to watch a dragon devour his mother, Aegon the Unworthy, causing the Blackfyre Rebellions. I do not wish for my son to be called such names if he were to be king. There is Aegon the Conqueror and Aegon the Unlikely to look up at however –“

“Aegon the Conqueror took lands that were not his own alongside his sister purely because he thought he deserved them. He destroyed families alongside their dragons. He conquered Westeros, an admirable task, no doubt, but at what cost? Do you think he deserved to be King, Lyanna?”

“I… I do not know.”

“I believe he does not. Aegon did what he did out of sheer selfishness. And look at what came from it. Rhaenys Targaryen was struck down with her dragon at Hellholt. A scorpion pierced the dragon through the eye. Suddenly the dragon is destructible.”

“Dorne is to be accountable for that.”

“Dorne is responsible for the death of Queen Rhaenys and Meraxes, but Targaryens have been destroying each other for centuries on end. In the end, I would rather be a beggar in the Free Cities than a Targaryen princess. I will not have to suffer the madness that comes with such a family name.”

“The Conqueror made Torrhen Stark bend the knee. He saved his people.”

Elia took a sip of her wine. “Admirable. But tell me, can a dragon survive in the cold icy North? It is written that Torrhen Stark met with King Aegon on the banks of the Trident. What if they were in the North? Would the dragon have survived or would it have succumbed to the cold winds of the North?”

“Why does it matter where King Torrhen met the dragons? Especially now?”

“Because if he did, he might not be known as The King Who Knelt and you might not be sitting in front of me, Lyanna.”

Lyanna looked at her in shock and realization at her words.

“It is important to consider the actions of our ancestors, Queen Lyanna,” said Elia, taking another sip of wine. “We must make sure to never make the same mistakes they have.”

“The Starks of Winterfell have never made decisions like those of the Targaryens. We are descendants of the First Men. It was Brandon Stark who built the Wall and Winterfell. We value honour and loyalty from our family and banner men alike. We are nothing like the Targaryens and their madness.”

“I quite understand,” said Elia, nodding. “However, your son is that of House Targaryen. He may look like a Stark, but his name is that of a Targaryen. No one will ever forget he is the son of Rhaegar Targaryen. Not any time soon. If you wish for him to be known as Aegon the Good or Aegon the Just, you must acknowledge the mistakes that House Targaryen has made in the past and make sure your son does not follow in their lead. This realm cannot handle another mishap after what has happen.”

“I will try, Princess Elia, but I can only do so much.”

“That is the least you can do, and it will most certainly be more than what Rhaegar has done thus far.” 

* * *

 

The screams of Cersei Lannister after the deaths of Joanna and Myrcella Blackfyre could be heard and felt throughout the realm. Though she did not bear any kindness towards Lady Lannister, Elia felt for the lioness. Losing Aliandria or Daemon will completely and utterly destroy her.

She held them close and kissed the top of their heads.

“Mother, is everything alright?” Aliandria asked her, looking up at her with wide eyes.

“Yes, sweetling,” whispered Elia. “I just love you and Daemon.”

Aliandria was quiet for a moment before saying, “I miss Grandmother and Uncle Oberyn and Sunspear. I miss home.”

“I miss Dorne as well. But we are needed here, my love. Someday we will go and visit Sunspear and the Waters Gardens, but for now we have to stay at King’s Landing.”

Daemon fussed for a moment before Aliandria said, “The King’s daughters are dead.”

Elia winced at her daughter’s words. She was far too young to say such things bluntly.

“Aye, Myrcella and Joanna are dead.”

Aliandria frowned and looked at Daemon. “I will pray for them, Mother. I think Queen Lyanna and Rhaella will like that. They were pretty babies.”

“They were,” whispered Elia. “When the King comes back, we shall be kind to him, and Lady Cersei if she comes with him.”

Aliandria nodded as Arthur entered their chambers. She ran towards Arthur, who picked her up easily and held her close.

“I love you, Father,” declared Aliandria, fierce as a little princess could be.

“And I you,” said Arthur, smiling. He always brightened up with Aliandria around. While Daemon was her sweet boy, Aliandria was his fierce little princess. She always cheered for him when he trained. She showered him with kiss and love and he gifted her with fine gowns and books and dolls.

Arthur sat beside her and she realized this was one of the rare times they had spent time alone together without a Targaryen interrupting them.

Once Aliandria and Daemon had gone to sleep, Elia and Arthur had spent the rest of the night in each other’s arm, whispering sweet words to each other before drifting off. 

* * *

 

When Rhaegar Targaryen came back to court with Lady Cersei, Lyanna of House Stark went to the birthing bed.

 _It was too early,_ thought Elia.

She saw something in Rhaegar she has not seen in a long time: compassion, love, concern. He barely looked at Cersei Lannister since Lyanna had told them about her birthing pains.

She remembered the deliveries of Aliandria and Daemon. Aliandria was much harder than Daemon, who comes out with ease compared to his older sister. But birthing is still not easy for any woman and this is something all women must face.

Rhaegar suddenly enters her office with force, looking as though the Seven were chasing after him.

“Lyanna requests your presence at once.”

Elia walked towards the birthing room quickly with Rhaegar matching her speed beside her. He did not enter the room with Elia, preferring to stay outside. The room was hot and humid. Lyanna laid down on the bed, panting and sweating. Maester Pycelle was nowhere to be found.

“Elia,” whispered Lyanna, her hand reaching out towards her. Elia gripped her hand tightly. “How is Aegon?”

“He is with Rhaella,” said Elia. “He seems excited to meet his brother or sister.”

Lyanna smiles but soon gasped at the pain. “Pycelle said this babe is coming too soon. He says that there might be a chance we both won’t survive.”

Elia scoffed and went to damp a cloth with cold water. “Pycelle is mad and old. I would not trust the words coming out from that man. He is very much a –“

Lyanna grabbed Elia’s wrist, surprising her. Her voice was tight with pain as she gasped, “Promise me Aegon will be happy. Promise me he will be safe and Cersei will not harm him.”

“Lyanna –“

Lyanna shouted in pain, squeezing Elia’s fingers. Maester Pycelle entered the room with some maids.

“Princess Elia,” gasped Maester Pycelle, his voice wheezy. “You must leave. The new babe will be here soon.”

“No,” snapped Lyanna. “She will stay.”

Pycelle did not look happy but accept his Queen’s words as he moved between Lyanna’s legs, testing her progress. Elia turned back to Lyanna, keeping her forehead and cheeks cool.

“Promise me,” whispered Lyanna.

Elia looked into the steel grey eyes of Lyanna Stark and nodded. “I promise, my Queen. I promise you I will do my best.”   

“I will have to turn the babe,” wheezed Pycelle, “or you both might die. This will hurt, Your Grace.”

Lyanna screamed for hours as Pycelle turned the baby. He whispered about the chances of her surviving and how it did not look too good. Elia looked at Lyanna. She will be surprised if Lyanna or the babe survived. In the end, her son came out bloody and quiet.

Lyanna gasped and let out a cry. The maester handed her the babe and left, whispering something about Rhaegar. The room was soon empty as Lyanna took a good look at her son.

“Edwyn,” whispered Lyanna. Her voice softer than a whisper. “His name is Edwyn.” She held her arms out towards Elia. “Take care of him. Promise me, Elia. Promise me you will take care of him.”

“I promise,” whispered Elia.

Lyanna smiled at her words. “Kind Princess Elia. Sweet Princess. They will write songs of you one day. They will tell tales of your beauty and your kindness to others, even if they were never kind to you. They will tell stories of your reign as Princess of Dorne and of Hand to the King.”

“The will do the same to you, Your Grace.”

Lyanna laughed, though hoarse and quiet. “Do you think so?”

“I do.”

Lyanna died with a smile on her lips as she closed her eyes and let go of her hold on life. The Queen is dead.

Rhaegar came into the room soon after to see Elia staring at the lifeless body of Lyanna Stark, holding her bloody son in her arms. Elia turned to Rhaegar, tears already streaming down his beautiful, sad face.

“She’s gone,” whispered Elia. In her arm, she could feel the unevenness of Edwyn’s breaths and she feared for the worse. 

* * *

 

Edwyn did not survive the night. Elia stayed by the baby’s side until he took his last breath. She promised Lyanna.

Rhaegar had honoured Lyanna’s wish and named their son Edwyn Targaryen. He was small and sickly with a small wisp of dark hair on top of his head. Elia held the babe close towards the end, making sure he felt the warmth from her body. She could see the sun in the horizon as he took his last breath.

Rhaegar had locked himself in his chambers while Rhaella cried for the loss of her good-daughter and grandson. King’s Landing was in a state of mourning. 

* * *

 

Elia had the bodies of Lyanna and Edwyn sent to Winterfell to be buried next to her father and brother. Rhaegar was enraged, flying into her office, breaking her possessions. Elia sat down at her chair quietly until he was done.

Rhaegar began to sob in the middle of her office, calling for Lyanna to come back to him. Elia had Ser Barristan take him to his chambers. 

* * *

 

Cersei arrived at Rhaegar’s chambers, prepared to give him some tale about how she felt wretched about what had happened to Lyanna and her spawn. It did not matter to her, the gods have taken away her precious little daughters and they have now seen fit to take away the Stark girl and her babe.

She knocked on the doors before entering herself. Rhaegar was sitting on the window still, staring into the vast ocean before him. He was so beautiful and ever so sad. She never wanted to see him like this again.

“Rhaegar, my love,” whispered Cersei, coming to his side at once and kneeling before him. “Come now. Let us get some food and see your son. I hear he misses you greatly.”

Rhaegar choked for a moment before saying, “Aegon.”

“Aye, Aegon wishes to see you.”

“He looks like her. Lyanna. He looks like her.”

“I am sure, Your Grace, that Lyanna would not want you to stay locked up in your –“

“DO NOT SPEAK ABOUT HER!” yelled Rhaegar, standing up suddenly. Cersei flew backwards, hitting her head on the floor. She gasped for a moment, staring at her sweet King as he poured himself a glass of wine. This was not the man who whispered kind and beautiful words to her at the tower of Old Oak and Dragonstone.

Cersei slowly got up. “Rhaegar, I understand how you must fell, but, please, my King –“

A hand flew out and Cersei’s head was snapped to her side. Her cheek stung and she tried her best not to cry out for her brother or her father. They cannot help her now. This was her choice, running away with Rhaegar Targaryen.

“You do not understand how I feel,” whispered Rhaegar, his voice dangerous. “I lost my wife, the woman I love and who am I stunk with? The whore of Casterly Rock.” He took another sip of his wine. “You will leave my chambers, pack your belongings and leave for your father’s home. After that, I do not care what you do with the rest of your life. Marry whoever you wish for, but I want no part in your life anymore, Cersei.”

“Rhaegar?” whispered Cersei, staring at him in bewilderment. “I thought – I thought you loved me.”

Rhaegar sneered. “Love you? Oh sweet and naïve Cersei, you were just a womb for my child to grow in. I only ever wanted Lyanna and needed you to carry a child for me. I knew Lyanna would not be able to do so after the birth of Aegon for a while and then I saw you. You see, my wife was still recovering and unable to conceive for months on end, and you were vulnerable and willing to get away from Robert.  And look how useless you have proven to be. Myrcella and Joanna are dead, and after fruitless months, you are still not with child. Pathetic. Thank the gods I did not marry you. Get out of my room.”

Cersei left Rhaegar’s chambers crying and screaming for him. The guards had to restrain her from clawing at his face.

As she made her way back to Casterly Rock, Cersei had wished she stayed with Robert once word comes that Catelyn Baratheon gave birth to their firstborn. 

* * *

 

Elia pressed the badge against Rhaegar’s cold palm. “I resign from my post as Hand of the King.”

Rhaegar looked at her for a moment before tossing the thing on his table. “Very well. I shall write to Jon Arryn, I suppose. The pressure got to you.”

“No,” said Elia, shaking her head. “You turning away Cersei Lannister like a common whore finally did it. You almost started a war for her, told me countless times you loved her, and now look at what has happened. Lyanna is dead, your son died within a night, and you have now made Tywin Lannister the most dangerous man in the realm. I want no part of this. I would rather be in Dorne than try to fix the mistakes you have made once again. My company and I will leave at the break of dawn.”

Before she left, she had to ask. “Did you ever love either one of them?”

Rhaegar looked wounded at her words. “I loved Lyanna, and I needed Cersei.”

“You needed her?”

Rhaegar sighed. “I told myself and everyone that I loved her because I needed to believe that what I was doing was justly and for the good of the realm. I needed her, I did not love her as much I as loved Lya or –“ He caught himself as he stared at her and then said, “I needed her to give me children born with fire and ice in their veins. Lyanna was of ice and Cersei had fire inside her. I knew that things between Lyanna and I have changed since the birth of Aegon. She was less welcoming in bed. I knew she could not give me the children I craved and sought out for. I needed a Rhaenys and Visenya for my Aegon.”

“And now you have nothing.”

Rhaegar nodded. “I may not have loved Cersei, but I adored my daughters. Myrcella and Joanna was beautiful and innocent, and they suffered for all the wrongs I have brought upon my house and family.”

“What about Cersei?”

Rhaegar looked guilt. “I was in my cups. I… I was unkind to her. I turned into my father and I am ashamed. I hope that she will one day forgive me. I am willing to compensate for what has happened. Perhaps find her a good husband or –“

“I think you have done enough,” said Elia roughly. “Lady Cersei needs time alone with her family in Casterly Rock. Your presence or help will do nothing in her healing process. Leave her be, Rhaegar, and forget that she was ever in your life for her sake, and Lyanna’s.”

Just as she was about to leave, Rhaegar said, “She loved me, Cersei. She told me so. And I wronged her. I have destroyed her, Lyanna and my relationship with you. I do not know how to fix this.”

Elia sighed. “Be a good King, Rhaegar, and a good father to Aegon. That was all Lyanna wanted. For you to be a good person.”

“And you?”

Elia hesitated. “I wish to go home with my family. I wish for peace, away from King’s Landing.”

Rhaegar nodded. “Perhaps one day we can put this behind us and that our children will look upon each other as friends rather than see their parents as failures.”

 “Perhaps,” agreed Elia. “But we cannot do the same, Rhaegar. Every time I look upon your face I see the man who threw away everything for nothing. A selfish man. Maybe our children will become friends, but we cannot.”

Rhaegar nodded. “I wish for Aegon to be happy and for our houses to be united, for the sake of Lyanna. She once wished for our children to be married when they come of age. What do you say, Elia?”

“No, Aliandria –“

“Not your firstborn,” said Rhaegar, shaking his head. “If you were to have another daughter, I am willing to let my son marry her. She will be a fine queen of the realm, I am sure of it. The Targaryens and Martells have been matched for years before us.”

Elia inhaled sharply. “I shall think about it. It is… a long time away and things could possibly change from here on out. If they wish to marry, then so be it. But I will not discuss this any further, especially since Lyanna’s bones have not yet reached Winterfell.” 

* * *

 

Rhaella and Viserys came to bid them a safe journey. Elia hugged the once Queen tightly just as Aliandria and Viserys did the same. The children had become so close and Aliandria was losing her best friend.

“He is mad to let you go,” whispered Rhaella. “You were the one ruling Westeros since Aerys died. Not him. He cannot be king. He cannot govern himself.”

“And I cannot be the Hand,” said Elia. “I am the Princess of Dorne. Let someone else be Hand and fix the mistakes he has made. Just as long as I am in Dorne when they do so.”

The whole ride back to Dorne Arthur was smiling truly and brightly. He was the happiest in Dorne and away from the royal family.

“I have missed the sun and the Water Gardens.”

“And I have missed my family and my husband.”

Arthur was shocked before kissing her cheek. “We were not the same in King’s Landing. We were distant.”

“I do not wish for us to be like that again.”

It was then she realized her moon blood had not come in a month. Arthur pressed kisses upon her still-flat stomach and Rhaegar’s proposal was gone from her mind. This babe, boy or girl, will still be a Martell of Dorne, not matter if Rhaegar or Aegon wanted them. She prayed to the gods for a fierce babe and for peace, for her family’s sake. 

* * *

 

Pregnancy did not suit Cersei well. She hated every moment of it. It was tedious and unpleasant. Every time she woke up, some part of her body ached with pain and she was soon bounded to her bed in the highest room of Casterly Rock.

Her father had wished to keep her pregnancy a secret for the time being, promising her that he will get revenge on Rhaegar Targaryen for making a fool out of her and House Lannister. The dragon had no right.

Her mind often drifts back to Jaime, still in King’s Landing, guarding that bastard. Her perfect twin. He would never have done this to her, send her away as though she was some whore. She was a lioness of the Rock and the most beautiful woman in the whole realm. She was not to be set aside like this. Every night she dreams of slitting Rhaegar’s throat.

The birth of her third child comes more easily than the girls. She cries for her sweet babes gone too soon. They would have made beautiful princesses with golden hair of their mother and indigo eyes of their father. Oh how she wished they were Jaime’s instead. But no, they had to be Rhaegar’s. She made sure of it.

“A boy,” announces the maester and Cersei urges for him to quickly clean the babe and hand him to her. A son, Rhaegar’s son.

The babe is fussy, his legs kicking, ready to fight. Cersei smiles at him. Let her father plan for the downfall of the Targaryens, it does not matter, not now. She has her son and he will be enough for her. Rhaegar Targaryen be damned. 

* * *

 

Mariah Martell found her mother and sister in the yard, watching their father and brother cross swords with each other. Aliandria was shouting words of encouragement towards Daemon while their lady Mother smiled and clapped for both of them.

Mariah sat beside her beautiful mother and cheered for her brother, who has yet to best their father. Though Daemon had their father’s face, he reminded Mariah of their mother. Quiet, calculating, watchful, clever and kind, while Aliandria was much like Uncle Oberyn – dynamic, quick witted, stubborn and grows jaded easily. She was skilled with a bow and spear and found swords quite dull, though loved to watch their father with Dawn. Elia told her she was much like Grandmother and Uncle Lewyn, headstrong and determined with a joyous side that Aunt Ashara always had.

 _My little sun_ , Elia always whispered to her. Though her colourings were that of her mother, she always believed herself to have her father’s face, though Ser Arthur would always disagree.

“Running away from your lessons, did you?” asked Aliandria, smiling at her. Oh, she was truly wicked when she smiled, and Mariah loved her all the same.

“Oh hush,” said Mariah as Elia laughed.

Daemon soon fell on the ground with Arthur standing over him. He held his hand out and Daemon was soon on his feet.

“Well done, son,” said Arthur, clapping him on his back. “You almost had me there.”

“Almost,” said Daemon, running his fingers though his silver hair.

“Perhaps you will do better with a spear, Daemon,” said Aliandria.

“But I must get better with a sword first.”

Mariah chortled. Though Daemon was much like their mother, he was just as stubborn as Aliandria – she was more open about it than he was.

Someone behind them cleared their throat and Maester Caleotte said, “A raven from the King.”

The smiled on Elia and Arthur’s faces instantly died. Mariah saw the three-headed dragon seal in crimson wax as the maester passed the parchment to her mother. Princess Elia sighed deeply before looking at Ser Arthur Dayne.

“The King as requested out presence at court of a tourney and… for a marriage proposal.”

Her father looked at her when Elia said those words. Aliandria grabbed Daemon’s arm and they quickly walked back inside the castle as Elia began to explain everything to her. King Rhaegar has proposed a match between her and his heir, Prince Aegon Targaryen. Mariah felt sick.

“Aegon is surely a good man,” said Elia. “He was raised by his Grandmother Rhaella and they say he is more of a Stark than a Targaryen.”

Mariah nodded. We cannot say no to the Targaryens. War will surely come if they do, and Mariah will do everything she can to protect her family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, pretty much Rhaegar is mad and is an ass. He just really wanted those kids and that is his real downfall as he made an enemy of Tywin, Cersei and her son. 
> 
> And a small nod towards Elia's kids: Aliandria, Daemon, Mariah - the kids Rhaegar truly wanted and in that order for his prophecy. 
> 
> Lyanna is unfortunately dead, but just rememeber who the maester was and that his loyalties are truly with House Lannister.


	8. A Princess's Worth

The first thing Aliandria thought of when she met the prince was: _Oh. Mariah has to marry_ him _? He is miserable._

The prince stands tall beside his father, and they both differ in appearance. Though she is aware of his lunacy, King Rhaegar is handsome with silver hair and indigo eyes of the Targaryens. His face is shaven and his hair is tied back neatly as though he was much younger than he appears to be, while Prince Aegon has the Stark looks, dark messy hair, and grey eyes with a long face that gives nothing away. His mother left everything of herself in Aegon. The only thing he could have possibly have gotten from his father is his sadness.

The prince was kind enough but barely spoke to Mariah. Her sweet sister is happiness and joy and deserves a good husband that will bring her as much. But Aliandria doubts Aegon Targaryen is anything of such.

The castle was grand, much more than Sunspear and the people irk her. There are tents outside for lords and ladies to sleep in as many of the rooms in the castle was occupied. They point at her mother and father and whisper behind their hands. The women are quiet and barely speak, even when spoken to. They smile, as though it was expect to of them, and they bow to their men. The sight boils Mariah’s blood.

_I am the Sun_ she thought. _I will not bow to anyone._  

The only happiness the trip to King’s Landing has brought is seeing her old friend once again.

“You have grown,” said Viserys, smiling at her. He was as tall as his brother but twice as handsome with his silver hair tied back and his face showing hints of a stubble.

“Yes, that is what happens when you do not visit your friend for years on end,” explained Aliandria. “At least I had your letters, though they do not keep my bed warm.”

Aliandria took pleasure in watching Viserys’ face turn red. He had the good graces of being embarrassed at her comment. She would have so much fun with him.

“Come, walk with me in the garden, we must catch up for old times’ sake,” said Aliandria, taking his arm. “When is your sister arriving?”

“Within a day or so,” said Viserys. “She will probably get here before the Starks come as well. Aegon is excited to finally meet his uncle.”

“Really?” murmured Aliandria. “I did not know that the prince had more than one state of being.”

Viserys shot her a look. “Aegon is kind and has more honour than most men. He will be a good king when the time comes.”

“But will he be a good husband?” asked Aliandria, stopping just as they stood outside the castle. “I love my sister very deeply and I do not want to ever see her unhappy. I do not want her to become Queen Lyanna reborn in King’s Landing.”

Viserys breathe in sharply and held his hand out towards her. “Aegon is nothing like Rhaegar.” She then took his hand as he led her around the garden. “He is more Stark than Targaryen and values nobility above all else. He is the best of his mother and father. He will be a good husband to your sister.”

“I will believe it when I see it,” snipped Aliandria. “I do remember Lyanna Stark and _her_ sadness. I do not wish the same for Mariah.”

“He will be good to her, I can promise you that, Aliandria,” vowed Viserys. She quite liked the way her named rolled off his tongue. He was so certain and so determined. 

* * *

 

It has been years since Elia has seen her closest companion and good-sister. In those times they have written numerous letters to each other, telling tales of their days apart. Elia wrote numerous letters of Arthur and his training of other young lads, of Aliandria and the fine young lady she was becoming, though Arthur and Arielle believe she is Oberyn with teats, of Daemon and his need to be the embodiment of House Martell and House Dayne, and of Mariah, the niece she has never met.

Ashara does well in the North, taking charge of her household and managing Winterfell alongside her husband, while being admired by the smallfolk as kind and generous. Elia hears whispers that while Ned Stark rules over the North, it is Ashara who is to be thanked for such as he takes her considerations very close and dearly. They call her The Northern Star.

There were days when Arthur jokingly stated that it was Ashara who was Elia’s true love and they were merely separated due to their dutiful husbands.

“I am sorry to cause you such great pain, Elia,” stated Arthur, trying his hardest not to laugh. “I do not mean to cause you such tremendous pain when you agreed to marry me. I shall curse the day Ashara, your great love, married Ned Stark.”

Elia threw a book at him, but he darted out of harm’s way and usually laughed along with Oberyn for teasing her.

She had almost forgotten how beautiful Ashara was. Motherhood has certainly agreed with her as she was radiant and glowing like the stars above. The moment Ashara entered the palace, they ran towards each other, holding and hugging each other fiercely and in fear that the other might disappear.

“It has been too long,” whispered Ashara and Elia could hear her composure slipping. Her voice was cracking and her eyes were watery.

“I have missed you greatly, Ashara,” murmured Elia, tears slowly flowing down her face, though she was smiling through them.

“And I you.”

Arthur soon then stepped forward and hugged his sister, picking her up and spinning around in circles, erupting a laugh from Ashara and Elia and earning disapproving glares from other around them.

“Unhand me, you beast!” exclaimed Ashara.

Arthur soon put her down, but held her close. “Beast? Why, dear sister, I do believe I am more handsome than you.”

“And I believe you are as ugly as a boar,” stated Ashara, smirking. “However, you are certainly better to look at than a pig, I suppose.”

“A boar and a pig?” mused Arthur. “Oh, how you wound me.”

Elia smiled. Arthur might not have shown it as much as she has, but he has missed Ashara just as much as she has, maybe even more. They were friends and inseparable. As much as Arthur teased Elia, he ached for Ashara’s presence just as much.

“At least your children are beautiful,” admitted Ashara, looking behind Arthur and smiling. Elia gestured the children forward.

“Aliandria.” Ashara stepped forward and they both embraced. Aliandria smiled as Ashara stroked her hair and whispered, “You are so big. What is now? Nine-and-ten?”

Aliandria nodded against Ashara’s shoulder and Elia could tell that her daughter was trying her best not to cry. Her fierce little girl. She was devastated when Ashara went up North, claiming she wanted her Ashara back. Her friend. Her aunt. Aliandria loved Ashara as deeply as she loved Oberyn.

“You never forgot my name day,” replied Aliandria softly.

Ashara then turned to Daemon and laughed. “Oh! I thought you were Arthur for a second. Why, you were a small babe the last time I saw you.”

“No,” Daemon shook his head, smiling at her. “I am six-and-ten now, Aunt.”

Ashara stroked his cheek softly. “I know. I remember the day when I first held you.”

Mariah stood tall and smiled as Ashara took sight of her. Look at the two of them, Elia could see the resemblance in their faces and her heart soared when Ashara embraced Mariah.

“You look so much like Grandmother Aly,” whispered Ashara. “We must speak later and tell me much of what has happened to Sunspear and Oberyn. Does he miss me? Where is my old friend?”

“Back at Sunspear,” replied Mariah. “Grandmother has come down with a flu and he wants to be by her side.”

Ashara turned towards Elia, who merely nodded. Her mother was sick once again and both she and Oberyn were fearful as to whether or not this was the last one. Rhaella Targaryen and Lewyn Martell were both disappointed in her absence and frightened.

“Oh, no matter,” supplied Ashara, joy returning to her voice but Elia knows her too well. She was saddened at their absence. “I shall see them later, I suppose. Come now, children. Let me introduce you to my flock.”

Ashara’s children stood by the side awkwardly as their mother was introduced to her brother’s family. They now came forward as Ashara went down the line with pride in her voice. Elia did not need to be introduced to them. She knew each and every single one through her letters.

“This is my eldest, Brandon, Rickon, Alysanne and Artos, and Dyria.”

Each were as handsome as the next. Brandon stands taller than Ashara with a mop of dark hair and grey eyes of his father, but his face was as handsome as his namesake’s. He had Ashara’s cheekbones and Arthur’s chin. He smiled kindly when introduced. A charming young lad of four-and-ten, not much younger than Mariah, his smile was reminisce of the old Brandon Stark. She remembers letters from Ashara telling her that he had nothing but the wolf’s blood in him.

Rickon was just as tall as Brandon with the long face of the Starks and colouring of his mother with his hair soon starting to become long at three-and-ten. He had a stern face with an unwavering expression. Elia was reminded of Rickard Stark at the sight of him.

If Aliandria resembled Elia as much as Deamon of Arthur, Alysanne was all Ashara. She was as beautiful as Ashara at two-and-ten with her mother’s glossy thick hair and vivid violet eyes. She is graceful at such a young age and smiles softly. But Elia knows better. Ashara writes to her about the trouble the young lady has gotten into without any repercussion from her father– skipping lessons, going out riding without permission, kissing the stable boy, though Ned Stark does not know much of the latter. She is Ashara with her looks and demeanor. 

Alysanne’s twin, Artos, is her image with the colourings of Arthur. In a family of dark haired siblings, Artos stands beside Alysanne with light hair and bright violet eyes. The only thing he got from Ned was the shape of his face, but the boy was a Dayne, no doubt. He resembled Daemon more than his own brothers. He looks up at Arthur with wide eyes.

Dyria was the last one as she looked overjoyed at the sight of her mother’s extended family. With her mother’s face and father’s eyes, she moves forward and looks at Elia.

“I am Dyria of House Stark,” she stated. “I am pleased to meet you, Princess Elia. Mother has told me many great things about you.”

Aliandria and Arthur chortled at the sight of the little girl while Ashara looks at her daughter with ample love. She has barely seen ten name days and she was very much a little lady.

“And your mother has told me many great things about you, Lady Dyria.”

The little girl smiles at the proclamation before Ned Stark enters though the grand doors, not too overly happy as Rhaegar Targaryen walk past his guests, glancing at Elia. Ashara moves to stand beside her husband, touching his hand and the Northern Lord’s face softened.

“Lord Stark, it is good to see you again,” greeted Arthur.

“And you, Ser Arthur,” replied Ned.

The two men shook hands as Arthur introduced him to his and Elia’s children. Aliandria, Daemon and Mariah greeted their uncle warmly enough, but they did not know him as much as they knew Ashara. Elia told them tall stories of their aunt, but only a handful of Ned Stark. In all, she did not know the man well enough herself. She only knew him as the man Ashara loved with all her heart and a good Lord of Winterfell. She never considered Ned family until now when he stood in front of her children, shaking Daemon’s hand and greeting her daughters. It was time for her to start bearing in mind Ned Stark as her family and treating him as such. 

* * *

 

As the other lord and ladies arrive at King’s Landing, Mariah finally sneaks out of the castle and explores. The tents outside the palace were large and lavish, each trying to outdo the other. She found each tent interesting as the last and was not surprised to see the Tyrell’s, though she knew that Willas and Daenerys Tyrell had their own chambers inside the palace. At the end of the lot was, to her surprise, was the Lannister tent. It was grand, much grander than the Tyrell’s or the Hightower’s. The decorations outside the tent were simple enough but it was still intimidating with their banners flying high and above.

She had heard rumours of Cersei Lannister’s arrival but believed none of them as nobody had saw her in the flesh thus far. It was all probably just another whisper. The Lady of the Rock has barely stepped out of her castle since the day King Rhaegar Targaryen banished her away from the Red Keep, sending her back to her father.

Though Mariah has not heard many good things about Lady Cersei, she pities the woman who feel in love with a monster. Mariah felt as though she should have stayed with Robert Baratheon. Since meeting the Stag Lord, she has concluded that, though he is quite loud and harsh at times, he treats his lady wife with respect and kindness, even if there are whispers that he still frequents with whores from time to time, but at least not in their home. Lady Baratheon seems happy enough, with her sons and daughter at least. Robb, Jon, Steffon and Minisa were the image of their father and was as kind as their mother, though Minisa’s hair was the same fiery colour of her mother.

She made her way into the godswood at the Red Keep with no one around. She did not care for the old gods but she liked to admire the handsome tree. Robb too was handsome and had a quick laugh. She would be happy to marry him or even Jon or Steffon. Any one of them. Prince Aegon was kind enough to her, he truly was, but she could not see her being excited during her marriage. The least she could hope for was that he would be dutiful and honour their vows. But Mariah thought of Rhaegar Targaryen and his descended wife, and believed otherwise.

There was a rustle among the trees and Mariah quickly turned around, her hands clutching her gown. A tall, lean man entered the clearing with a hood covering his face. He looked well kept, but his clothes suggested that he was not high-born.

“Identify yourself,” Mariah’s voice was loud and clear.

The man froze for a moment before pushing his hood back. His hair was a golden shade, darker than those of House Dayne and lighter than a Lannister’s. His skin was tanned, though not by birth, his eyes were a deep purple and he was as handsome as the Warrior.

“I am sorry, my lady. I did not see you there. I did not expect to see anyone else here.”

“Well, here I am.” She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “You have yet to identify yourself. I am Mariah of House Martell, the daughter of Princess Elia and Ser Arthur Dayne. You will do so to tell me who you are or I will call my father and brother.”

“And not your betrothed?” the man asked. Mariah blustered while the man continued, “I am Rion of the Free Cities. I live in Braavos, though I have also lived in Pentos for much of my life.”

“If you live in the Free Cities, what are you doing here?”

“Why, I am here for the tourney, of course,” he said, smiling. “And to see if I can become a squire for someone, anyone, really. My father was from Westeros and I came to see what life here is truly like.”

“And what do you think of Westeros?”

Rion of the Free Cities walked towards her slowly, looking at the tree behind her and then towards the sea in front of them. “The only part of King’s Landing worth seeing is the sea and the women, especially those of high-born.”

Mariah felt her cheek turn hot in embarrassment. “I beg your –“

“King’s Landing is shit. I walk down the market to hear those common folk selling fresh rats and rotten tomatoes. All I can smell is horse piss, rotten fish and sour wine. And to think people have fought for the right of this pitiful city. The only thing worth seeing is the high-born ladies that have come for the tourney.”

“Now, listen here, you –“

Mariah pointed her finger at the man but he stopped her. “I am sorry for being so blunt, my lady. You are quite beautiful and I do not see many beautiful women where I come from.”

Mariah hummed. “Be that as it may, I do not appreciate your frankness.” She picked up her skirts, “I must go, I am sure my mother and father are worried for me.”

“And your betrothed does not worry about you?”

Mariah had quite enough of this man. “I do not see how that is a concern of yours, Rion of the Free Cities. My betrothed is of no concern of yours and I suggest you mind your own business, especially in a place like King’s Landing.”

Rion of the Free Cities smiled at her, not out of smugness, but out of pity. “Princess Mariah, I do not mean to embarrass you or to make you angry. I am wrong to question the prince or yourself, it’s just that…”

“What is it?”

“I do not understand the notion of marrying a stranger.”

Mariah scoffed. “Love comes after, Rion. And nobody in Westeros marries who they want.”

“Except for your parents and the Starks,” he snapped.

“What is it to you?” she said roughly. “You are from the Free Cities, perhaps a sellsword. You have nothing to your name and yet you come here questioning Prince Aegon and myself. What do you want, Rion?”

Rion of the Free Cities says nothing. He turned around and walked away quickly. Mariah should have turned and walked back to the palace, but she wanted to know more about Rion or at least where he was going. So she followed. 

* * *

 

He was standing outside the Great Sept of Baelor at the top of Visenya’s Hill. Mariah entered with him into the Hall of Lamps and through the double-doors. The sept was very beautiful and Mariah almost forgot she was following Rion.

“This is where you will wed the prince.”

Mariah snapped around to see Rion standing between the two towering golden statues of the Father and the Mother. Ron stood high and smirked at her.

“You knew I was following you?”

“I expected you to follow me,” corrected Rion. He then held out his hand towards her, urging her to come to him. “Indulge me, Princess Mariah. I will never get to marry someone as beautiful or as fiery as you. Indulge a poor sellsword such as myself.”

Mariah took a deep breath and stood next to him in the sept. When she was younger, she imagined marrying someone like Aemon the Dragonknight, who loved his sister dearly and was honourable to his vows, or perhaps someone like Duncan Targaryen, who married Jenny of Oldstone against his father’s wishes and gave up his right to the throne.

Aliandria cared little for such songs and stories, though they both wanted the same thing: love. She could never admit it, but Aliandria wanted love as much as any other noblewoman. Mariah wanted love. She wanted her life to be like a song where she would marry a knight. She supposed Prince Aegon was a good choice in the end.

Mariah turned towards Rion and, in the light, she imaged him to be a knight. He was handsome and when he smiled, he looked more handsome than Prince Aegon. In turn, she smiled.

“I know you think of me as dishonourable and too bold for your taste, but I am not like that, Princess Mariah. I am… I do not know what I am, really. But I was raised mostly by my uncle and he thought me how to think fast on my feet and to show no mercy or weakness. I was raised on this for most of my life, princess. I have nothing to my name and… and I want more.”

“More?” asked Mariah.

“More,” stated Rion, staring at the Mother. “I have been trained in arms since I could walk. I can read and write due to my uncle, and I can speak several tongues – Common Tongue, Dothraki, Bastard Valyrian, and I can read and write in High Valyrian. When I was old enough to understand what was between my legs, I was thought history and law and understand the ways of the folk of Westeros and that of the Free Cities. I understand the notions of the Old Gods, the Faith, the Drowned Gods, R’hllor, Mother Rhoyne, and Many-Faced God of Braavos. I have worked with my hands well enough, lived among fishermen, commanded a ship and clean my clothes and others when needed and asked. I can cook without help, heal wounds…” He then looked at Mariah, his eyes glossy. “I know what it is like to be afraid, to be hunted, and to be hungry for days on end. My uncle raised me, but he also taught me that everything can be taken away from me.”

“You know everything, and yet…”

“I have nothing. I wish for honour, for gold, and for a companion for all my days to come. Tell me, is that a lot to ask for, princess?”

“No,” she whispered quickly. “No, it only makes you human, like everyone else. If we only had our desires and greed with us, there is no difference between you and I.”

“And what do you desire?”

Mariah thought about it for a moment. “Someone who is willing to give everything up for me and to stand beside his values.”

Rion shook his head. “I think you are wrong.” Mariah was about to retort before he continued, “I think you want someone to understand your worth and to see you for who you truly are.”

“And what am I, pray tell?” snapped Mariah.

“A queen,” whispered Rion. Mariah was taken back. “You are a Princess of Dorne and soon you will be Queen of Westeros. You do not want to be some feeble minded one, at that, you want to be as loved, cunning, and as powerful as the queens before you.”

Mariah shook her head but she could not admit the truth behind his words. Power was something Aliandria always wanted. She wanted to rule the world while Mariah was always content with living in Dorne. She did not want all those things Rion stated until it was told that she would marry Prince Aegon. She wanted to do some good for the realm. She wanted to be loved by her husband and to be a good queen to her people.

“I suppose we are both greedy, then,” Mariah said.

“I suppose so,” said Rion. He held out his hand. “I think we shall get going, Princess Mariah. Your family must be worried about you.”

Mariah blinked for a moment before taking his hand. They walked among the smallfolk and Mariah gripped Rion’s hand tightly when someone asked if she was from The Street of Silk.

Rion shoved the man away. “You will be kind towards her or you will lose whatever is left of your teeth.”

The man glared at Rion but Rion looked ready to fight. He did not have a sword with him but she was sure he was skilled with his fists as well. The man then walked away and Rion grabbed Mariah’s hand and their steps quickened towards the Red Keep.

Looking now at Rion, she suspects that there is more to him than what he said. Once they had reached Aegon’s High Hill, they began to slow down and Rion’s thumb began to draw circles around her hand. Mariah should have wrenched her hand away, chastised him for being so audacious for someone of a much lower birth, but then he smiled and said, “I am sorry, Princess Mariah. I only mean to keep you close and to ensure your safety back to your family.”

Mariah saw compassion in his violet eyes and she nodded, moving closer to him as they walked towards the palace.

She then blurted out, “Will you ride at the tourney?”

Rion laughed for a moment. “When I find out when the joust is being held. The King seems to be spending a lot of money and days for this tourney. I suspect it will last nearly a month. But I will be here, and hopefully, someone will take me on as a squire.”

“You are a sellsword, are you not?”

“Only when I am in Braavos,” he smirked.

They finally reached the gates towards the castle and Mariah found herself unable to let go of Rion’s hand.

“Will I see you again?” she whispered.

Rion smiled at her. “Not too long ago you told me I have nothing to my name and accused me of questioning the prince, and now you wish to see me again?” He looked towards the castle, his smile disappearing. “Prince Aegon should thank the gods every day to have you as a bride.”

Mariah could feel her neck becoming hot, though she doubted that it was due to the sun in King’s Landing. “And how do you know he does not already?”

“You would not have followed me if he did,” stated Rion, piercing her with his eyes. “If the prince has shown you an ounce of affection since you arrived here, you would not have followed me to the Sept of Baelor, and you would not have told me all those things.”

Mariah snorted and backed away from the sight of the guards. “And you think you know me so well, do you not?”

“I know you are bold and hot-headed, and you want love, just like me. You are avaricious for love and for honour. You are only realizing your worth in this world, and once you do, no dragon on earth will be able to stop you, Princess Mariah.”

Mariah inhaled sharply. “Leave me be, Rion. I am safe here.”

She opened the gates into the palace and she heard Rion whisper, “I will see you again, Mariah.”

She turned around, about to scold him for calling her so without her proper title, but he was gone and she was disappointed. Mariah hopes she will see him again. He… challenged her and she quite liked that about him.

“Princess Mariah!” someone called for her. Mariah turned around to see Prince Aegon rushing towards her. “You have been gone for a long time, princess.”

“Have I?” questioned Mariah. The sun was starting to set along the horizon and she knew she was out for far too long.

“Yes,” said Prince Aegon. “We were all worried. My father was going to send guards to look for you, but your mother called it off, saying that you would return soon.” He offered her his arm. “I shall escort you back to your chambers, if… if it pleases you, princess.”

“Mariah,” she said, linking their arms together. “Please call me Mariah.”

Prince Aegon nodded. “Very well… Mariah.”

Mariah smiled as Aegon’s arm began to relax, but she soon realized she liked the way Rion said her name instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thing: the children in this story will not be like the children in canon, so Brandson Stark, Ashara's son, will not be another Robb or Bran, Robb Baratheon will not be Robb Stark, and the same goes for the rest of the children introduced. Some of the names will remain, but their personalities will not. And Cersei and Rhaegar's son will not be another Joffrey.


	9. The Mystery Knight

The tourney thus far had been long and tiring at the least, but the people of King’s Landing loved it, as well the nobles of Westeros. Her mother was not pleased with the tourney and either was Mariah. She might not have made her vows with Aegon yet, but she began to calculate the cost of such a grand tourney in her mind and was not pleased. If Rhaegar was foolish to plunge the throne’s money into one tourney.

But he has always been foolish, she supposed.

“You’re growing old,” commented Aliandria. Mariah had come to her sister with her concerns and this is all she had to say?

“Would you have done this?” snapped Mariah. “Would you have ordered a tourney as grand as this one?”

“He is the _king_ ,” stated Aliandria. “And you will do so to remember that. We are not at Sunspear anymore, Mariah.”

“Oh, I know that,” Mariah was not backing down, “But for god’s sake, Aliandria, I can feel the money draining away from the throne. He cannot possibly be so utterly stu –“

Aliandria pinched her neck and Mariah let out a small yelp. Her sister’s eyes were burning with rage as she covered Mariah’s mouth.

“Tread carefully, dear sister,” warned Aliandria. “We are in the dragon’s lair and you do not know who is listening to us. The Red Keep is foreign and unsafe for the likes of us Dornish Princesses. Remember who Rhaegar Targaryen is. He is the king – he is _our_ king. He is not as popular as he was during the days of old, but he is a dragon nonetheless and he is slowly gaining his supporters back and his army. You do not want to be heard talking ill of such a dangerous man.”

Mariah narrowed her eyes at Aliandria as she let go of her.

“I am not afraid of such people,” stated Mariah. “I know who he is, Aliandria. I am not scared and I am not a coward.”

Aliandria started at her for a moment, before scoffing. “Oh, Mariah, you are only a child. You do not understand where you are, not truly. You are in King’s Landing, in the Red Keep. You are playing a very dangerous game here. You cannot be anything less than what they perceive you to be.”

“And what do the lords and ladies of Westeros see?”

Aliandria picked up her goblet very delicately and took a sip. “They look at you and they see what they want to see.” She wiped the corners of her mouth. “They see the perfect bride for their perfect prince to marry. Despite being a Dornishwoman and having the colours of me, mother and grandmother, you have the Dayne look in you – and it is quite easy to forget you are a Martell with Aunt Ashara’s beautiful and sharp features. They do not see a savage when they look at you. They see it in me, mother, Uncle Oberyn and many other of our Dornishmen and women. They even see it in Daemon.”

“Daemon?” asked Mariah. “He has father’s looks.”

“He has the look of a Dayne, and certainly more than you, but he is always in the company of either father or a Dornishman. If Uncle Oberyn were here, Daemon would never leave his side and would certainly practice with him every day.”

“These Northerners see us as Dornish savages, and why? Because we are different from them? Because we did not submit to the dragons?”

“They do not see you as such,” corrected Aliandria. “Since coming here, you have been sneaking out of the castle have you not?”

Mariah’s cheeks turned red. Did her sister know…?

“The other members of court do not know that,” continued Aliandria, “they merely think you are locked in your chambers, sitting quietly, praying to the gods for the prince and waiting for your wedding day. They are delusional, of course, no denying that. They believe what they want to believe. Prince Aegon is a sad prince who had grown up with no mother and a grandmother is a poor replacement as she has her own children to handle. His father is who he is, his uncle has responsibilities in Summerhall and his aunt has been shipped off to the Tyrells, stuffed in a pretty little dress.”

Mariah frowned. “I cannot be less than normal.”

“And neither can your children. When you have daughters with the prince, people at court will expect they to be like the other princess before them. One whisper against them and they will be damaged and subjected to ridicule for their days to come.”

Mariah’s nose flared. “I will not let any harm come to my children, especially here.”

“Unbowed, unbent, unbroken,” recited Aliandria, smiling at her, but Mariah could see only compassion in her smile. “Mariah, I lived here before you were born. If you are anything less than what they expect from you, this place will break you and it will ruin you.” Aliandria sighed. “I do not wish to see you become a weak and broken woman when I leave.”

Mariah pursed her lips at Aliandria’s statement. “You wish for me not to become Lyanna Stark.”

Aliandria looked troubled at the thought. “She was a kind woman and a… She was wrecked beyond repair. Had the Mother or the Warrior come down to us, they still would never have been able to save her. She only had smiles for the children and even I could tell she was miserable in this place. After all that she had gone through… I never want to see you become like her ever. The Keep destroyed her, Mariah, I do not wish for the same thing to happen to you. Please be safe.”

Mariah did not say anything for a while, imagining the ghost of Lyanna Stark roaming through the castle. She imagined her to be like Aegon.

“I remember once she told me she was sure her babe was going to be a boy,” whispered Aliandria, staring at her goblet, her eyes far away from the Keep. “She was so sure, so determined that Prince Aegon was going to have a baby brother to play with. She told me once, in the nursey, that she wanted to give him a strong, Stark name. Edwyn. The Spring King. She thought it was fitting, considering they were in the South and all, and King Edwyn did something important, as all Starks do, apparently. But that was the first time I ever saw her smile.”

Aliandria smiled and laughed quietly for a moment before her expression changed completely. “I supposed it did not matter what she named the child in the end. He died along with his mother the next day.”

Though she rarely showed it, Mariah could tell that the events of her days as a child still affected Aliandria. Her sister is strong-willed and as stubborn as their uncle, but this is something Mariah has never seen before.

“Our mother raised us to be bold,” whispered Mariah.

“And she raised us to _survive_ ,” retorted Aliandria. Her voice sounded detached. 

* * *

 

It was silly of her to do so, but she waited at the godswood every day for Rion of the Free Cities. It was unwise of her to do such a thing, to be infatuated with such a man when she is betrothed to another. If she were any other highborn lady, she would have forgotten such a man and focused on getting to know her soon-to-be husband.

But Rion made her feel… he made her feel as though…

She could hear footsteps behind her and she took in a sharp breath. She was sure it was Rion, come to challenge her once again, making her question her life, making her want to strike him and yet want to ki–

“Princess Mariah?” Mariah turned to see Prince Aegon looking at her with confusion. “What are you doing here, princess?”

Mariah bit her lips as Prince Aegon walked closer to her, only to realize that he was to kneel beside the tree.

“Have you taken to the Old Gods, princess?”

Mariah took a deep breath. “No, I merely came to look at such a pretty tree and the sea. I find peace here, Your Grace. It is quite nice.”

Aegon Targaryen nodded to her words and gave her a small smile. “I take you worship the Seven?”

Mariah nodded. “Since I was a girl, Your Grace. I was particularly fond of praying to the Mother and the Warrior.”

“I prefer the Old Gods,” said Aegon. “I find comfort in in the godswood, though this is merely a great oak and not like the weirwoods of the north.”

Mariah nodded, though she did not particularly know much of the Old Gods.

“When we are married,” began Aegon, looking uncomfortable, “I will not ask you to take up the Old Gods, but I do request that we have a small ceremony in front of the heart tree.”

Mariah give him a small smile and she felt as though he was giving her his heart, showing his vulnerability to be closer to the Old Gods, a tradition of the North, where his uncle’s family live, where his mother used to live.

“It would please me to marry you in front of the Old Gods and New, Your Grace.”

Aegon nodded, looking at the heart tree and then at her. His expression was sorrow and pain and Mariah felt the need to reach out towards him, to stroke his soft, pale cheek and to soothe his distresses away. But she merely stands in front of him, her hands fidgeting.

Prince Aegon then stands up and takes in a deep breathe. “I pray to the gods for a good marriage, Princess Mariah. I understand that marrying a stranger and moving from your home is not going to be easy for you. But I can promise you that I will try my best to make the Red Keep feel like home, princess. I will be a dutiful and faithful to you, and only you. I will be a good husband, princess.”

“Mariah,” she whispered. “Please, I have insisted on you called me my name before.”

Aegon nodded. “Mariah,” he whispered. “Please call me Aegon, then.”

Mariah nodded. “Do you truly wish to wed me… Aegon?”

Aegon did something Mariah was not sure he was capable of doing in the godswood. He slowly cupped her face with his hands, looking at her with curiosity and wonderment. She felt her breathe caught in her throat as he leaned in, kissing her. His lips were warm and firm. She felt her neck stretch out towards him and her hands held his arms.

It was a daring move from such a quiet prince. Mariah quite liked this side of him. As their lips pulled away from each other’s, their bodies were still close together. She found feel his breath on her forehead as she stared at his chest, trying to figure out what to do next.

“I wish to wed you, Mariah,” said Aegon and she looked up at him. He then kissed her forehead and she realized something.

She will never see home again. 

* * *

 

“You are stupid and foolish,” grumbled Tyrion, struggling to keep up with his nephew. “I hope you understand how utterly irrational this –“

“I understand rather well your position in the matter, uncle,” Aerion said absentmindedly, his long legs moving quickly. Though his uncle annoyed him greatly on such a day, he was the last thing on Aerion’s mind. “You and mother have finally found something you both could agree on: my stupidity.”

“If you know the risks of doing such a thing, then why peruse her, Aerion?” pleaded Tyrion. “I do not understand what you are doing.”

Aerion ignored him as they reached the godswood. He was about to enter the place and seek out the Dornish princess. He had watched her for some time, coming during his free time and finding himself a craven when he could not find the courage to speak to her once more.

Mariah. Aerion chuckled to himself. He supposed he should have addressed her properly the last time they saw each other, but he could not help but want to see her riled up. He will apologize to her first.

But she was kissing the crowned prince and Aerion felt his chest become hollow at the sight. He turned away at once and walked away from the godswood, cursing the Old Gods and their stupid tree.

His uncle was now silent and it only irritated Aerion further. They made it to the rocks by the sea when Aerion finally snapped. “Spit it out already! Tell me how stupid I am! Tell me how idiotic I am! Tell me that I am a brainless git to think that – that – “

Aerion threw his sword against a large rock and his uncle winced at the impact. He then sat on top of a rock, his hand clutching his knees and his face turning red with rage and sadness as he took deep and hurried breaths. He wanted Aegon gone from this world for everything he has done.

Tyrion sighed before sitting next to Aerion, staring out into the sea. “You are not stupid,” he offered. “You are just a child.”

“I am a grown man,” snapped Aerion.

Tyrion sighed once more. “You will always be a child to me. Remember, I am the one who taught you many things, and I am the one who traveled with you throughout the Free Cities. I even stood by you when we traveled with those Dothrakis. And you know how terrified I was of those horselords. How you managed to get them to swear loyalty to you…”

“That was all Mopatis’s doing,” said Aerion.

“Ah, yes, the cheese monger,” continued Tyrion. “How could I forget it was _him_ who traveled with the _khalasar,_ and got to understand their culture, giving them respect in the process, and that it was Illyrio Mopatis who learned their language and helped them in a battle that left most of them dead. Tell me, was it Mopatis who defended the _khal_ and saved him from death or was that _you_?”

“Enough,” snapped Aerion. “What is your point in all of this? I know what I have done with the Dothraki. I do not need you to remind me once more.”

“My point, dear nephew, is that you have been a member of a _khalasar_ and their _khal_ has pledged loyalty to _you_ , a mere bastard of Westeros. You understand more politics than most men your age. You wield a sword as though you were born to do nothing else and you have _survived_ , Aerion.” Tyrion now stood in front of Aerion, holding his hand and gripping it tightly. “You have survived when others would have killed themselves at the thought of being hungry and alone in Pentos or Volantis. They would not have survived like you have. You are a Lannister, for god’s sake. You are a lion of the rock and have some bloody pride for yourself, boy. Do not go crying after some noble girl.  Stand up now. Up up. Up you go.”

Tyrion started kicking Aerion’s feet as he slowly got to his feet.

“Now,” Tyrion clapped his hands together, “you have to train for the tourney or you will never hear the end of it from your mother.”

Aerion scoffed at the thought as he picked up his sword. They walked in silence for a while before Aerion said, “Mariah is not just some noble girl.”

Tyrion nodded. “She is a princess of Dorne. Her blood is nobler than most.”

“She has a certain fire to her,” whispered Aerion. “She carries herself a certain way, like a highborn lady should, but then she has moments where you can just tell…”

“Tell what?” asked Tyrion, indulging his nephew.

“That she could rule the world,” Aerion said, his voice hushed as he thought of Mariah Martell. “That she is capable of anything, everything. That she is so utterly powerful and, yet, I don’t think she knows this.”

Tyrion pursed his lips at Aerion’s statement over the princess.

“Could a princess ever love a bastard?” mused Aerion.

“Daenerys the first loved Daemon Blackfyre,” said Tyrion. “And he loved her in turn.”

“And he rose in rebellion when she was denied to her,” sighed Aerion.

He thought of Daemon Blackfyre, who fought like the Warrior and was more of a Targaryen than his own half-brother, Daeron Targaryen. Daemon was the better man, and he was given the sword of Aegon the Conqueror when he was a knight, a boy of two-and-ten. The King Who Bore the Sword, and Illyrio Mopatis promised that none should touch the great Valyrian steel until Aerion came back for it. 

* * *

 

Mariah sat beside her brother at the feast in an elegant blue gown with her hair pulled together with a single purple ribbon.

A feast. Another expense for the throne to pay for, she did not utter a word, but drank the spiced wine and ate the bland food. Aegon was sitting at the high table while Elia and Arthur sat with Ashara, whispering and giggling to each other, as though they were children. Ned Stark sat beside his wife, but looked uncomfortable.

When the music begins, Elia and Arthur are soon partnered as well as Ashara and Ned Stark. Her cousin, Brandon, soon asks Minisa Baratheon to a dance while Alysanne spins around with Robb Baratheon. Willas Tyrell and his wife, Daenerys, have a small dance, but the young Targaryen is soon in her brother’s arms, dancing and laughing together.

Mariah smiles at the sight of Daenerys and Viserys together while Willas dances with young Dyria Stark, who looked positively delighted at the thought of dancing. Her little cousin is quite adorable. She hopes to have a daughter like her one day, and perhaps one like Aliandria, who was now dancing with Viserys once the song changed while Daenerys danced with Ser Jaime.

Aegon was sitting at the head table with his father while Rhaella Targaryen indulged Ser Lewyn Martell with a dance. She desperately wanted him to come to her, asking her hand for a single dance, but the prince merely sat beside his father, who smiled at the lords and ladies dancing on the floor.

“Do you want to dance with me?” asked Daemon.

Mariah smiled kindly at her brother and nodded. Her brother was kind and sweet and swift with a sword, but his feet fumbled whilst dancing and once the song ended, he sat back down, red in face, while Jon Baratheon asked a dance from her.

Jon is a handsome man with steely blue eyes. He was handsome like his brothers, and kind like his lady mother, but he had eyes for some Hightower girl and she let him go at the end of the song.

Mariah could not stand to be in the Great Hall any longer and she soon left after a quick word with Daemon, who nodded as she left. The way the king was staring at everyone unnerved her and panic rose inside her chest. That was how her life was going to be once she wed Aegon. And the way Rhaegar was staring at her mother – Mariah shivered at the thought. She could not…. She cannot…. To be a Targaryen princess in Rhaegar’s court was something she did not want one bit.

She did not know exactly where she wanted to go but soon found herself standing in the godswood, kneeling and praying before the Old Gods. In her short time here, she found solace with the heart tree.  

“I wish to go home,” whispered Mariah, her throat closing up as she closed her eyes. “I wish to go home with my family and to live my days watching over Aliandria and Daemon’s children and my cousin’s children. I wish for happiness. Please, I want to go _home_. I want to be free.”

When she opened her eyes, Rion of the Free Cities was kneeling in front of her, so close to her, staring at her with such great intensity she almost forgot how to breathe.

“What?”

“You are magnificent,” he whispered, his purple eyes dark. His hand was now cupping her face and she turned red at his boldness. She should slap his hand away but she craved the touch. “Has the prince been unkind to you?”

Mariah shook her head. “If I were to go back to Dorne after the tourney, would you come with me and my family? Pledge allegiance to House Martell?”

Rion clenched his jaw for a moment. “If I were the prince and you asked me to give up everything, I would do so in a heartbeat. I would follow you until the ends of this earth with no complaints and a single question of what we were to name our children.”

His lips were firm against hers, warm and soft and rough, she lost herself in him and wanted nothing more than to never leave the godswood, never let this moment pass between them. She shifted her body, bring them closer and Rion pulled back for a moment before capturing her lips once more, one hand sliding into her hair and the other holding her neck ever so delicately.

“Run away with me,” whispered Rion, pulling them apart. She could feel his warm breath against her lips. “You will love the Free Cities. Come away with me and I will give you everything you have ever wanted. We can be anything there. You can be anyone else. You can leave this vile place and make a new life for yourself. I can make you a new home.”

Mariah shook her head, biting her lips. Oh, how she wished for such a thing. To have a home away from King’s Landing with children named Elia, Arielle, Arthur, Daemon, Aliandria, Oberyn. “I cannot leave, I cannot do that to my family.” Rion huffed as Mariah whispered, “I just want to go back to Sunspear.”

“That is not an option if you marry Prince Aegon.” Mariah winced at his words, realizing the truth of the matter. “King Rhaegar will not let that happen until he is dead and by that time, you would have already become a stranger to your own home. You will be in King’s Landing until the end of your days, as miserable as Rhaella Targaryen.”

“Then I suppose you are Ser Bonifer Hasty,” snipped Mariah. “Infatuated with a princess who could never marry _you_.”

“I suppose I am, then,” snapped Rion. He then kissed her once more, but he did not linger. “We will one day be together, Princess Mariah. You do not see it now, but we will. We are destined to be together and we will take our last breaths together.”

He tugged one something and her hair was free and her purple ribbon was now wrapped around his fingers. He smiled knowingly at her and kissed her forehead as they heard a rustle in the tree behind her. Mariah turned her head to see who it was quickly before turning back to Rion, about to urge him to flee.

But he was already gone, as swift as a fox and quiet as a mouse. She felt her whole body ache for him to come back but she stood up as her brother came into her sight.

“There you are!” he exclaimed, jogging up to her. “Mother and Father are worried. It’s getting late and the last day of the tourney is tomorrow, and since when did you take to the Old Gods?”

Mariah smiled and took his offered arm. “I have not, but it is a very pretty tree, don’t you think?”

“I suppose,” shrugged Daemon. “As far as trees go, I guess this one is alright.”

Mariah laughed, though rather shakenly. “Oh, Daemon. Promise me you will never change.”

Daemon shrugged. “People change all the time, Mariah. It is only natural.” He saw Mariah’s face fall and hesitated for a moment. “But I will always be your brother and you will always be my little sister, even when we are both as old as grandmother with wrinkles and our hairs silver.”

Mariah smiled in gratitude and kissed her older brother’s cheek. She prayed that he will always have his good humor and warm smile, even when he is as old as their grandmother. There needs to be more men like Daemon in Westeros. 

* * *

 

The arrival of a mystery knight did certainly make Mariah more interested in the tourney, excited even. She sat next to her brother and sister amongst the Dornish Company. Elia said beside Daemon and Ashara, though not overly interested in the tourney. Daemon and Aliandria were excited at the thought of the mystery knight.

“He is perhaps some rich lord’s son, hoping to make a name of himself,” Aliandria whispered to them.

“Rich lord’s son or not, this is certainly going to be interesting,” commented Daemon. “Look.”

He pointed to the yard where the mystery knight was. His armour was fine black that shined under the sun. Mariah could tell that he was tall and lean under his amour. She wondered if he would show his face if he were to win.

But the announcement of the mystery knight was soon extinguished as Cersei Lannister made her way through the stands to sit beside her father. Elia and Ashara gasped at the sight of her, and even Aliandria stared after the woman. Mariah could still see the beauty hiding in the woman’s face, but the years have been unkind to Lady Lannister. There were small streaks of white in her golden hair, though she was younger than her mother. Her face was harden, though she smiled for the many lords and ladies staring after her. Her emerald eyes were guarded and stony as her eyes landed on the gawking Rhaegar Targaryen.

Rhaegar Targaryen soon turned towards the day of the joust and everybody else followed suit, though they snuck glances at her many of times. Any thoughts of Cersei Lannister left everybody’s mind as the first joust occurred.

Mariah clapped and cheered for each man and was astonished to see how well the mystery knight was doing. There was something about him that made the crowd cheer for him. Mariah cheered for him as well, though not overly so. Her father was to joust, as well as many other Dornishmen and Aegon.

Ser Arthur had unfortunately fallen at the hands of Ser Barristan, who was now due to face the mystery knight. Daemon put down one gold for the knight only to have Barristan the Bold be unhorsed easily as though he was some mere green boy.  

“How is that even possible?” cried Daemon, saddened at the thought of his lost gold. Elia shook her head at him, but said nothing.  

“Fear not, dear brother,” declared Aliandria, smirking, “For our soon to be good-brother is now up against the mystery knight.”

Aegon Targaryen and the mystery knight was all that remained of the joust and Mariah held her breathe. She certainly wanted Aegon to win but after watching the mystery knight, she thought otherwise. Aegon was strong and skilled with a sword, but she doubt he could win in this joust against the mystery knight.

Mariah clasped Aliandria’s hand when Aegon and the mystery knight’s lances connected with the other’s shield. The mystery knight was as strong as Aegon, but was faster as he brought up his shield and pivoted quickly enough to keep his seat as their lances shattered.

They returned to their places and both was given a new lance. Aliandria put money on the mystery knight as Elia scowled Daemon for wanting to put more money than his sister. But they all quietened down quickly.

Aegon lowered his visor once again and both knights rode at each other. The mystery knight’s lance struck the prince’s shield at a certain angle first and Aegon was soon gasping at the reigns before toppling over onto the ground.

Many people gasped and cheered as the mystery knight retrieved the crown of spring roses, but he soon turned his horse towards the fallen prince and slipped from his saddle. Many spectators began to whisper in confusion as the mystery knight extended his hand, helping Aegon to his feet. The crowd roared in approval at the sight of such an honourable knight helping the crowned prince up.

Aegon soon removed his helm and Mariah could see the look of respect in his face for the knight, clapping him on his back and whispering some words to him. The mystery knight then began to move towards the Dornish Company with one hand clutching the crown of roses. He stopped in front of Aliandria, Mariah and Daemon, as the murmurs died down.

Mariah had thought the knight would surely give the crown to Aliandria, her beautiful and striking sister, or perhaps her mother or Ashara, with all their great beauty, or maybe Daemon to get a good laugh from the crowd.

But the crown of spring roses fell on top of Mariah’s lap as shocked whispers filled the crowd. Aegon’s smile vanished and Arthur’s hands flew towards Dawn while Mariah stared at the crown. They were beautiful, that was for sure, but she could hear her mother trying to calm both her father and her brother while Aliandria clutched her hand.

The King stood up, red in face from embarrassment and anger, and soon spoke, his voice commanding as though this was a battlefield. “REVEAL YOURSELF, MYSTERY KNIGHT! IN THE NAME OF YOUR KING, REVEAL YOURSELF OR SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES!”

The entire tourney went silent as the mystery knight reached up to remove his helm. Mariah’s eyes widened as Rion of the Free Cities smiled at her before turning towards King Rhaegar, who continued to shake with rage.

“REVEAL YOURSELF!”

Rion of the Free Cities continued to smirk at the king, tilting his head to the side, gazing at the man. Many people began to whisper now and Rhaegar was growing impatient.

“I WILL NOT ASK YOU AGAIN! IN THE NAME OF RHAEGAR TARGARYEN, KING OF THE ANDALS, THE RHOYNAR AND FIRST MEN, LORD OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS, AND PROTECTOR OF THE REALM, YOU WILL TELL ME YOUR NAME!”

Rion looked at Aegon and then back to Rhaegar as he opened his mouth to speak.

“I am Aerion Blackfyre. Son of Cersei Lannister and Rhaegar Targaryen. I have travelled throughout Westeros and the Free Cities to finally meet you, father, and you, brother.”

People gasped and pointed at Aerion, who paid them all no mind. He was looking at Aegon for his expression, but Aegon’s face was schooled perfectly while Rhaegar was flabbergasted at the declaration before soon turning towards Cersei Lannister. Many people did the same. Aliandria elbowed Mariah and nodded towards Lady Lannister.

She sat beside her father, looking so utterly dignified and proud. She smiled knowingly at her son, giving him a small nod before glancing at Rhaegar Targaryen, her eyes full of hatred and fire that only a lioness could possess. But what scared Mariah the most was Tywin Lannister. She swore she could see the ghost of a smile on the Old Lion’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Rion is actually Aerion and things are certainly going to get more interesting from here on out since he revealed himself to Rhaegar and Aegon.


	10. The Princess, the Prince and the Bastard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some mature contents somewhere towards the end.

“When will the king finally call us, Mother?” asked Daemon, sitting on the featherbed with his leg bouncing.

“Soon,” mumbled Elia as Arthur squeezed her shoulders.

She did not like this one bit. Cersei Lannister returning back to court. Elia never thought she would ever see that woman or hear anything of her again. Once Lady Lannister returned to Casterly Rock all those years ago, nobody had heard a whisper of her whereabouts or that she gave birth to the king’s bastard. Aerion Blackfyre!

Elia looked at Mariah, curled up on the featherbed, her face buried against the pillow with her crown of flowers clutched in her hands. He crowed her Queen of Love and Beauty. She remembered Lyanna Stark’s face when Rhaegar laid his crown of roses upon Cersei’s lap. The thought of Lyanna had not escaped her since. Aegon looked just as devastated.

The doors to the chambers opened and Aliandria came in. She looked uneasy as she closed the doors behind her. Elia stood up along with her husband.

“Did Viserys have anything to tell you?” asked Arthur.

Aliandria nodded. “The king… he is not happy with the tourney. He had hoped to prove to the lords and ladies that some good can come of a tourney, but now…”

Her voice trailed off and Elia understood. The presence and the mere existence of Aerion Blackfyre could cause war against the Rhaegar’s crown.

“He is now questioning his bastard and the Lannisters with the small council, and then he will call us for questioning as well before deciding what to do with Aerion and… Mariah.”

Mariah finally sat up. Her hair was in a disarray and she looked absolutely apprehensive.

“He does not think I have something to do with Rion – Aerion does he?”

“Rion?” asked Arthur, taken back.

Mariah looked sheepish. “I met him before the tourney… he told me his name was Rion and that he was of the Free Cities. He merely introduced himself to me as I wished him luck. But the King, does he think Aerion and I are somehow… _involved_?”

“He does not know _what_ to think,” stated Aliandria. “The small council is whispering in his ears absurd nonsense and he wants answers from us and the Lannisters.”

Elia composed herself for a moment. He wishes to question _us_? After everything that has occurred since the days of Aerys, House Martell and Dorne have been the most loyal to House Targaryen, never questioning them in public. Staying quietly in Dorne, Elia wanted peace for her family until the end of days, but that seems like a distant dream now with the appearance of that Blackfyre boy.

“Then we shall wait until he calls us,” said Elia. “And we shall put this behind us at once.”

Arthur and Aliandria nodded as Mariah laid her head down once again. Arthur sat beside her near the window, gripping her hand, as Aliandria sat near Mariah, stroking her hair tenderly.

“I do not like this,” whispered Arthur.

“And neither do I. But we must be ready for the worst. If they question us for a long time or ask ridiculous questions, I will write to Oberyn at once.”

“Hopefully, Rhaegar will settle this at once.”

_Hopefully_ thought Elia.

They waited in uncomfortable silence until Ser Lewyn Martell came through their chamber doors, announcing that King Rhaegar Targaryen requests their attendance.

“Tell me, uncle, how is the King?” asked Elia, standing up.

Ser Lewyn looked distressed. “He is not… happy. We best get along, and quickly, the longer we linger, the worse he will think. And his patience is grow thin as it is.”

Elia’s nose flared for a moment for a moment before flattening her gown. “Very well, Mariah, get up and straighten yourself up. Aliandria, beside Mariah and put that crown somewhere else. Arthur, Daemon, behind us. Keep your swords close to you. We shall not be weak nor unguarded in front of Rhaegar and his council.”

Ser Lewyn led the way as Elia walked on Mariah’s other side.

“I have done nothing wrong, Mother,” whispered Mariah.

“I know. Hush now, my child. This will be all over soon.”

The doors to the throne room opened and Mariah grasped her hand firmly. Seated upon this throne was the king, flanked by members of his small council, with the exception of a Hand. Ser Gerold Hightower, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, was to his right, along with Grand Maester Pycelle, and Master of coin, Petyr Baelish. To left was Viserys Targaryen, Master of ship, Varys, Master of whisperers and Aegon Targaryen. Stannis Baratheon, Master of Law, was absent. She heard that his wife was called to the birthing bed during the tourney. With the absence of the Master of Law, all members of the Kingsguard were present and surrounding the room.

In front of them stood Aerion Blackfyre, Cersei, Tyrion, and Lord Tywin Lannister. Cersei regarded Elia with distaste for a mere moment before turning back to the front of the room, gently stroking her son’s arm while Lord Tywin regarded her with cold, soulless eyes. Aerion seemed angry and uncomfortable with his mother’s touch, flinching as she touched him. Tyrion Lannister was the only one of the lot who looked bored.

“Princess Elia,” spoke Rhaegar.

“Your Grace.” Her family fell to their knees before the King summoned them back up. “I am glad to see you are in good health.”

“And you,” said Rhaegar, smiling at her. It unnerved her. He then sighed. “Princess Mariah, come forward.”

He beckoned her forward with his fingers as he sat upon his throne. Elia hoped his chair was prickling him. She could feel her daughter’s arm shake as she moved forward from her family. The Lannisters and the small council were staring at her, watching her very move. But she did not once stumble as she walked closer towards the king. She held her head up and straightened her spine. The only one not watching her was Aerion, firmly fixing his eyes on the floor of the room.

“Now, Princess Mariah, you have been called forward by members of my council and myself to answer our questions about what has occurred during the tourney. Do you know who he is?”

Rhaegar gestured towards his illegitimate son.

“Aerion Blackfyre, Your Grace,” said Mariah.

“And what exactly is the nature of your relationship with this boy?” asked Varys.

Mariah looked at Varys for a moment before returning her gaze at Rhaegar. “I have no relationship with Aerion Blackfyre. I only met him at the tourney when he gave me the crown of roses.”

“He named you his Queen of Love and Beauty,” commented Petyr Baelish. “And you want us and the king to think you have never met this boy before.”

“I have not,” stated Mariah, loudly. “I have only met him the once and he gave me a crown for some stupid joust. Aerion Blackfyre means as much to me as any other common folk in King’s Landing.”

Elia saw Aerion wince at her words and that was enough for her to know that her daughter is lying. But Mariah is not so stupid to do something foolish with the boy. She knows the dangers of Westeros if she continues this charade with the boy.

Grand Maester Pycelle opened his mouth to say something when Rhaegar held his hand up. “I have heard enough.” He then looked towards the Lannisters and sighed. “Very well, I have come to a decision. Maester Pycelle, Lord Baelish, Varys, please leave at once.” Once they had left, he continued, “Come forward Aerion.”

Aerion Blackfyre came forward, pointedly avoiding Mariah’s glance and stood in front of Rhaegar, Aegon and Viserys Targaryen, members of his family. He was quite handsome, Elia had to admit. He was more Targaryen than Lannister in his looks. He was tall and had golden hair with deep purple eyes. 

“Father?” asked Aerion. Elia could hear the strain in his voice.

Rhaegar fidgeted in his seat for a moment. “Yes, well, I suppose I am your father.” He sighed once again. “I wish to get to know you, boy, and seeing as the tourney is finally over with and some lords and ladies heading back home, I do not see a better time. You will stay at King’s Landing with your other family. I will find suitable chambers for you within the Keep.” He then looked at the rest of the Lannisters. “Lord Tywin, you will return back to your home with Lady Cersei and your son.”

“But, Your Grace –“ began Cersei.

“Enough,” snapped Rhaegar. “I am tired of hearing you whine, Cersei. You and your father and your imp of a brother will leave for your rock tomorrow and that is the end of it. I will hear no more arguments against this.”

Cersei fumed against his words. All wildfire against her father’s cool demeanour. Lord Tywin held Cersei’s arm tightly.

“Um, Father?” spoke Aerion. “Could I request for my uncle to stay with me?” They all looked at the imp, who smiled. “You will not hear anything of him. He will either leave the castle and drink or sit in a chamber and drink. And, at this moment in my life… he is my closest friend.”

Rhaegar regarded Aerion for a moment before nodding. “Very well. So be it. Now, all of you can leave.”

He waved them off and Elia made for her and her family to leave quickly at once –

“Except for Princess Elia.”

Elia watched her family and the others leave the hall. Cersei Lannister glared at her with such hatred, Elia thought she would somehow burst into flames. Aerion Blackfyre avoided everyone’s gazed as Cersei clutched his arm. Tywin kept his calm demeanour while Tyrion looked unfazed by the events. Elia snuck a glance at Ser Jaime, but the knight was gone, along with his other brothers. The only people left the hall was Ser Gerold, standing at the grand doors, Elia and King Rhaegar.

In all her years of knowing the man, she knows she has to be on guard for the unexpected.

“I did not want any of this,” began Rhaegar, his back straightening. “The moment I saw Mariah’s face, I knew she had nothing to do with Aerion. She was just as shocked as the rest of them.”

“Then why question her,” asked Elia, anger dripping from her voice. “If you knew she was clear of every accusation the lords and ladies thought of her, then why put her through this?”

“Just because I was sure, does not mean others were. They made me do this. The small council are a bunch of terrified fools, Elia. Baelish and Baratheon are always on each other’s throats, fighting and snapping at each other at no ends. Pycelle is as sane as a buffoon, Viserys keeps telling me to find another Master of Ships, and Varys… well, he’s Varys. I don’t know what to think half the time with the whole lot whispering in my ears. Lies or truth, I cannot tell the difference anymore.”

“The concerns of the small council means nothing to me. The concerns of my family does. You are the King of Westeros. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and your small council is pushing you around. They are the ones you _made_ you do this?”

“I cannot do I as just please, Elia.” He sighed as his fingers intertwined, eyes locked on the ground. “Not anymore. Not after all I have done to Lyanna, to Cersei, to Aegon, and now Aerion. I have wronged them.” But then he looked up at her and she felt uneasy. “But I need to be reminded who I am at times. I need a Hand. A good Hand of the King. It has been a while since the passing of Jon Arryn, and Aegon is not fit for the role just yet. He is still learning the ways of court and kingship, but I do not want to burden him with such a task to soon.”

“I am not –“

“You helped the realm after what I did. I almost divided this kingdom with my hasty decisions. There would have been a war if you did not soothe the realm’s worries. I needed you then, Elia, and I need you now.”

“I will not,” said Elia, her voice definite. “I am the ruling princess of Dorne and I have matters to attend to once our children are married. My mother is sick and my people need me.”

Rhaegar gave her a half good natured smile. “You know the saying about the King and his Hand?”

“The king eats,” she said, “and the Hand takes the shit.”

Rhaegar laughed a little and Elia pursed her lips. She did not expect a laugh from him. She had hoped he would take the insult and leave her be.

“I suggest you go looking elsewhere for another Hand,” said Elia. “Perhaps even Tywin Lannister?”

Rhaegar scoffed at the notion. “Tywin Lannister?”

“A strong king needs a strong Hand. And who better than Tywin Lannister? He is intelligent, astute, political and he has dedicate twenty years of his life serving as your father’s Hand. He was a young man when he came into his position, and what a heavy burden it was for him. He knows the realm better than you, Rhaegar. Tywin is your best choice for a Hand. He have this realm peace and justice during your father’s reign.”

“And suddenly his is in your good graces, Elia?” mocked Rhaegar. “When did you and the Old Lion become friends?”

“We are not friends, Rhaegar,” corrected Elia. “I do not like the man. But I recognized the man for what he is, and he is the only man who can serve as Hand. No other lord has the guts or the brains to do so. Robert Baratheon would rather drink with his men and fuck a fishmaid, Ned Stark is too busy burying his head in the snow to acknowledge the rest of the kingdom, Hoster Tully is soon going to see his last day, nobody knows if Balon Greyjoy has finally choked during his meal or not, and Mace Tyrell is a bloody oaf!”

Elia took a deep breath and Rhaegar’s eyes widened.

“Please, do not hold back,” said Rhaegar, taunting her. “You are making yourself look better, Elia.”

“I do not care who becomes Hand, Rhaegar,” said Elia, almost out of breathe. “But I am giving you some advice. You want me to become Hand, unfortunately, I do not care for the job because the saying was right all along. You did as you pleased, as you always did, and I ruled the kingdom, sitting upon that uncomfortable chair while you ran off with Cersei, trying to get a babe in her. Tywin Lannister at least held the position before.”

She expected him to advance towards her with anger in his eyes, ready to send her away, back to Dorne, or to have his guard take her away to the cells for insulting the King of Westeros openly. But Rhaegar merely glares at her.

“I will not allow Tywin back in the Keep, especially as Hand. I did not wish to invite him to the tourney, but the small council forced me to, saying it was a peace offer. I did not want him here, I do not want Cersei here. I was fine with her being far away, dead to me and the realm. But then they showed up and Aerion.” Rhaegar sighed regretfully. “He is as old as your daughter and his only friend is his uncle. How pitiful is that?”

He then stood up. “I will not have Tywin as my Hand, and since you do not accept, I shall look elsewhere. You are free to go.”

Rhaegar swept away from the room without another glance at her. Ser Gerold escorted her back to her chambers. They walked in silence until they reached her chambers.

“For what it’s worth, princess,” began Ser Gerold, “you were a good Hand, and whoever takes up the position now will only be half of what you were.”

Elia smiles at the kind knight. The White Bull has now become old with his once dark hair turned silver, but old or not, his name, along with many of the Kingsguard, is always held in high esteem in the realm.

“Thank you, ser. You are a true knight.”

Ser Gerold bids her a farewell before marching on his merry way.  

* * *

 

“You have grown tall and fine, my boy,” said Ned, smiling as Aegon bested another young squire.

Aegon smiles at him as they sit upon the steps inside the castle. He swells with pride. “I am better with a sword than a lance, but Ser Jonothor says I sit upon a horse as well as anyone in the castle.”

Ned’s jaw clenched for a moment. Lyanna was half a horse herself. He could see her now, her hair flying in the wind as their father’s voice called out after her.

“What was she like?” asked Aegon, peering at him. He must have known Ned was thinking about her again.

Ned looked at Aegon for a moment.

“Was she as beautiful as I remember her, or is that a dream?” asked Aegon.

Ned did not know what to tell his nephew. He had avoided the discussion of Lyanna for so long, he made himself numb to the topic of his family, gone too soon. He had often though of Brandon, strangled by the order of the Mad King, their father’s true heir in his place; Rickard holding Ned’s children – he would have loved Dyria; Lyanna would have visited with Aegon, accustoming him with the north.

Aegon had her eyes.

“There was beauty in her,” agreed Ned, “as well as iron. I love her fiercely.”

Aegon nodded. “I wish to one day travel to Winterfell, to visit the crypt and pay my respects to my mother, uncle, grandfather, and the brother I never got to know.” He fingers intertwined and gripped each other’s tightly. “I wished she had been buried at Dragonstone or here. I would visit her every day with a flower. I hear she was… I heard she was fond of flowers.”

“Your father once ordered winter roses to be planted on Dragonstone.”

Aegon scowled at the mention of his father’s name. Ned offered a kinder memory of Rhaegar Targaryen. There are not much of him.

“Your father loved your mother once,” offered Ned.

“ _Once_ ,” snapped Aegon, standing up at once. “He loved her _once_.”

Ned sighed and stood up as well. Aegon begins to hack away at the training dummy. He reminded Ned of Rickard. His father, though never violent towards his family, was prone to outbursts and spent hours in the training yard, sparing with younger knights. Aegon precision reminded Ned of Rickard’s.

“Enough,” called Ned, his voice loud.

Aegon let out a huff before dropping his sword to the ground.

“I refused to believe he loved her,” croaked Aegon at once. “If he did, he would not – he would not have done –“

“I understand that you not believe it so,” interrupted Ned. “I did not years ago.” He moved closer to Aegon and placed his hand on his shoulder. “I have hated your father for many years for all he has done, you have no idea what happened all those years ago. We were on the brick of a war, Robert wanted to raise the banners and so did I, especially after what he did. I have lost my father, my brother, my sister and my nephew in a few short years and I have hated Rhaegar Targaryen since, but I do not want that same hate to fill your heart, Aegon. Hate it the cause of many problems in this realm. Wars and rebellions have been fought because of hate and many good people have died because of that hatred. He is your father, try to find the good in him, as I have. Rhaegar loved Lyanna, I remember so once upon a time when she smiled at the thought of a happy family with him. This is the only truth I accept.”

Aegon heave a sigh and shrugged off Ned’s hand. “That is easier said than done, uncle. Grandmother Rhaella raised me, Viserys told me stories of the dragons of the old, Daenerys was my companion before she married Willas, and the Kingsgaurd trained me. _He_ only started to show me the duties of being a prince and a king. I am the heir and he now suddenly takes an interest in my life!” He left out an unamused laugh. “And now I have a half-brother. The spawn of Cersei Lannister and my father wants him to live here. He cares more for this bastard than me! He wishes to _legitimize_ him!” He began to tremble, as Rickon and Artos always did. “I will never father a bastard,” he said carefully.

A tear spilled out and Aegon said, “I am sorry for my outburst. Excuse me, Lord Stark.” He whirled and bolted, jogging inside the castle, leaving Ned behind.

As Ned walked inside the castle, he saw Aerion Blackfyre down the corridor, walking towards him absentmindedly. The boy’s mind was clearly elsewhere as he was visibly shaken when he came face to face with Ned Stark.

“Lord Stark!” exclaimed Aerion, blinking.

“Aerion Blackfyre,” he replied heavily. 

“I was – I was going to the training yard to practice by dueling skills,” admitted Aerion.

“I do not care,” Ned said bluntly. He surveyed the young man in front of him, sizing his tall frame and his blonde hair. “You are Lord Tywin’s grandson.”

“And you are Prince Aegon’s uncle.” His voice was more confident. He had dropped his foolish mask quickly. “I wish for peace Lord Stark, and I wish to train in the yard. Allow me to go. Please.”

Ned held the man’s gaze for a few more moments before Aerion Blackfyre huffed and walked around Ned. He turned around and watched until the young man was well out of his sight. 

* * *

 

Sparing off against Ser Jonothor Darry was certainly more exciting than green squires who have never once bled in their lives. Though the knight was not as young as he used to be, his mind and his movements were still as sharp as the common folk say. The sound of their swords clashing echoed through the yard. Aerion was happy and pleased with himself.

He was breathing heavily, taking in deep breaths with a smile as Ser Jonothor did not break a sweat.

“Out of breath already, boy?” teased the knight. “And I was just getting started.”

The knight laughed and Aerion followed suit. They sat beside each other near the stables. There were some wild ones in there, making a mess and causing a ruckus.  

“Dornish sand steeds,” said Ser Jonothor. “Beautiful and harsher than most.” 

Aerion nodded. Red, gold, black, pale white. They had beautiful, long necks and were said to be as swift as the wind.

“Ser Jaime asked me to train with you,” said Ser Jonothor. “He does not seem too well.”

“He is unhappy,” retorted Aerion. “He misses my mother and Tyrion is clearly no help as he explores the city. It has been a while since my uncle had gone home.”

“No. The Red Keep is his home. It has been his home since he became a member of the Kingsguard. Casterly Rock is not his home, Blackfyre. But that is not your name anymore, is it?”

Aerion squeezed his lips together for a moment. “It matters not. I will always be viewed as a Blackfyre no matter what my father does. The lords and ladies of this Kingdom will always look down upon me. Did you see Daenerys Tyrell? She barely glanced my way and Viserys Targaryen looked uncomfortable at the sight of me. I ca – I am apparently not allowed to see my grandmother. I doubt she wants to see me at all. And Aegon… well, you have seen it. He hates me. The only one who even bothers is my father.”

“But you want more.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

Ser Jonothor gives him a smile and Aerion wishes to punch his earnest face. “I had two brothers growing up. One died of an illness recently and the other was set to rule our father’s seat since the day he was born. There was no place for me once my father died – that was made clear to me. I have heard tales of great knights before me. Ryam Redwyne, Aemon the Dragonknight, Duncan the Tall, The White Bull, Barristan the Bold. They are the finest swords in all the realm and they only served the king. No wives or children, no lands or titles. I always dreamed of becoming one of them. When the mad king offered me a white cloak, I took it without hesitation and began my service to the king and the royal family.”

“Did you ever regret it?”

The knight shrugged, looking down at the dusty ground. “There have been times when I wished I had left King’s Landing, when I questioned my vows. Every guard has thought so, but we do not flee nor do we bend so easily. Once you don the cloak, you are bounded to the royal family for life and you set aside your old family for your new brothers.”

He then stood up and dusted off his clothes. “I do miss the warmth of a woman’s lips, I will tell you that, boy. Now, I shall get going. I have duties to attend to. Do try to visit Ser Jaime with your uncle imp. He misses you all terribly.” He walked a few feet before turning around once more. “And do try to get to know your brother, Prince Aegon. You may think he hates you, and you may think you hate him, but you both are quite similar. Talk to him.”

Aerion scoffed at the thought of Aegon and him speaking to each other in a civilized manner. He can only see them fighting.   

* * *

 

Mariah knocked on the door carefully. Daemon was standing behind her, ever so her obedient guard, she wanted him to go away and leave her be. But her father wished for someone to guard her and Daemon was the best choice. She did not like her overbearing older brother following her around the castle wherever she went.

Ned Stark answered the door and was visibly shocked.

“Princess Martell, how can I help you?”

“Lord Stark, I was wondering if we can speak with Lady Ashara.”

Ned Stark hesitated and Mariah heard Ashara say something behind him. Ned sighed before widening the door and stepping behind it. “Very well, please come in.”

The room was hot. The fire was blazing and it reminded Mariah of Sunspear and the heat of Dorne. Ashara Dayne was sitting on a cushion near the fireplace, drinking some wine and eating some cheese. She was wearing a tunic much bigger than her and Mariah’s cheeks turned red. A gown was tossed to the side and she looked towards Ned Stark, only wearing breeches. Ned quickly found another tunic. She was clearly interrupting something.

“Oh,” admitted Daemon. He adverted his eyes and somehow found the plant at the corner very interesting.

“I am so – I am so sorry,” babbled Mariah. “I will come back another time perhaps tomorrow or so and I will leave you two to – whatever this is.”

“Nonsense, child,” laughed Ashara, standing up. She stood beside Ned. “It is quite fine. Please, stay for a while. If you wound give us a moment, Ned and I will make ourselves decent and please have a seat at the table.”

“There is no need,” said Mariah quickly. “I wished to ask you both of a small request and this will not take much of your time.”

Ned pursed his lips, clearly uncomfortable, while Ashara nodded.

“After my wedding to Aegon, I will be living here at King’s Landing while my family travels back home, to Dorne.” Mariah gulped at the thought. She paused for a moment. When Ashara extended her hand towards her, Mariah continued, she did not need pity, not now. “I will be alone. Aliandria has agreed to stay for a couple months to see that I get settled in the Keep, but I wish for some more companions and ladies by my side. I have already spoken to Lady Catelyn Baratheon, and she has agreed to speak with her husband, and I wish to ask you if you would consider having Alysanne at court as a lady in waiting and as my companion.”

Ashara and Ned looked at each other, looking uncertain.

“She is quite young,” commented Ned. “I do not think…”

“She will be guarded by some of the best knights Westeros has to offer. And this will certainly be temporary until she gets married… Uncle Ned.”

She has never once called him such, never once really considered him in any aspect of her life. He was always the man who won Ashara Dayne’s heart and took her to the cold north. But he is her uncle, whether she acknowledged him as such or not.

Ned Stark was taken back for a moment as Ashara smiles at her. She knew what Mariah was doing. Ashara then turned towards Ned.

“I was around Alysanne’s age when I was sent to be Elia’s companion, and we have become close and good-sisters since.”

“But she is so young,” said Ned, his voice soft, one of a tender father. He then looked at Mariah. “We have much to discuss, and with Robert and Catelyn as well. We will get back to you soon, Mariah.”

Mariah smiled at them. “Thank you, Aunt Ashara and Uncle Ned. We shall leave, then. Thank you for considering.”

Ashara and Ned smiled at them as Daemon closed the doors behind them. As they rounded the corner, Daemon started to laugh, quite hysterically.  

“Daemon stop laughing!” hissed Mariah, slapping his arm. “It’s not funny! They are married and free to do as they please!”

The look on his face suggests he does not think like her. His face began to turn red and Mariah began to walk away, arms crossed and in a huff.

“Mariah, wait,” called Daemon. He ran to catch up with her. “I’m sorry, but you have to admit…”

Mariah gave him a small smile. Her brother will always have an innocence to him. A sweet innocence that we all loved.

“Daemon, I have a favour to ask of you.” He nodded, turning serious. “Please, there is no danger for me. I am quite safe and I can defend myself. Please leave me be for a while. I would like to be by myself for the rest of this day.”

Daemon nodded. “Father is only worried for you. He cares about your safety.”

“I understand, but I wish to not be watched all day with a guard, Daemon,” pleaded Mariah, clasping her hands together. “Please?”

Daemon sighed. “If anyone finds out, you managed to escape from me. If nobody does, I was better than a member of the Kingsguard.”

“Of course,” complied Mariah, kissing his cheek.

She walked around the Red Keep, about to go to the kitchen when she saw Aerion. She stopped when he looked at her. She held his gaze, but soon continued on her way, escaping to the kitchen, alone.

A maid had given her some lemon cake with some honeyed milk. She had hope to not see him again. She did not want to. He lied to her. He meant nothing to her. He certainly did not make her heartbeat a little faster. He did no such thing. He was just another scoundrel. A liar. A cheat. He had not honour to his name or value. If he did, he would not have given her that stupid crown, shaming her in front of every, and for what? Revenge against the king? She will not be used as such!

Fury built within her at the thought of Aerion Blackfyre. She thanked the maid in a rush and marched towards the Maidenvault. There was no member of the Kingsguard stationed outside his apartment and she began to bang against the door. The door opened and Mariah snapped, “How dare you!”

She entered his chambers as Aerion said, “Please, come in,” dryly. She rounded off on him, jabbing the front of Aerion’s tunic. “How dare you crown me at the tourney! I am betrothed to your brother! And I am not some stupid _pawn_ in your family’s game! You have no honour and I regret the day I ever met you!”

“You are not a pawn!” he flared up. “I crown you and you come in here _attacking_ me?”

“You should have given it to a donkey instead!”

“I do not lie.”

“Are you sure of that, Rion? Or do you prefer Blackfyre, you bastard?”

She could tell she was pushing him over the edge. His face turned red at her words and she almost regretted them. Almost.

“I was questioned in front of the king with members of his council like some sort of… _whore_! I am a Princess of Dorne and a _eunuch_ dared to question me of my honour. By what right does he have?”

Aerion laughed bitterly. “Oh how sad, the princess had to answer some questions. How many was it now? Two? They questioned me for _hours_! They asked me questions about my mother, my grandfather, my uncle, where I have been, what I have done, my training and whether or not I have any bastards of my own! They thought of me as some sort of whore mongrel fucking very woman with teats because I’m just some sort of bastard to them!”

He gripped the chair by the table tightly, and she was sure he would throw it against the wall. It fumbled in his hands for a moment, but he held onto it tightly. He took a few deep breaths before sitting upon the chair, pouring wine for himself.

“I only wished to be a second son,” he admitted softly. “Or just another bastard. A Hill. I never cared much for… I just… I just want a family, Mariah.” He looked at her. She sat beside him. “I just wanted a father and a mother and stupid brothers and sisters.”

“You have a brother,” offered Mariah, guilt finally creeping upon her.

Aegon scoffed. “Aegon would soon declare the fool his brother before me. I rather be alone than have them be in my life hating me with such passion.”

“Does it bother you, my betrothal to Aegon?” she mumbled.

His eyes were fixated on the wooden table in front of them. “Yes.”

She was curious. “How much?”

“Almost as much as being a bastard.” He finally met her dark eyes. “Do you wish to wed him?”

“He is a kind man, a good man,” retorted Mariah firmly.

“But that does not answer my question.”

Mariah bit the insides of her cheek. “I not wish to answer any more questions.” She stood and walked towards the window, staring out into the sea. She crossed her arms as Aerion walked up behind her, placing his hands gently on her shoulders. His touch was comforting, she turned around to face him and their lips were close together. She could have kissed him. His breath was warm.

But Mariah jerked back and pushed him away. She put distance between them as she straightened herself.

“This cannot happen again,” she said definitely. “I am to wed Aegon and I will not bring shame upon my family –“

“Is that what I am to you, princess?” asked Aerion. He crossed his arms and she could tell that she had wounded him severely. He was angry and hurt, almost as though she had ran him through with Dawn. “Am I sometime you use and regret the next day? Do I make your skin crawl?”

“Of course not!” cried Mariah. “But we cannot do this anymore. People will talk and you will only be my good-brother, do you understand?”

Aerion was fuming. “Oh, I understand, _princess_. You are just like everybody else! You look upon me and see Rhaegar Targaryen’s mistake, just like everyone else! The shame of House Targaryen. The dirt of House Lannister. Just leave, Mariah. Just leave and go marry your stupid prince and have stupid princes and princesses. Just leave.”

He turned away from her, his back facing her, and Mariah walked out the chambers as fast as she could and towards her own. Her heart fluttered wildly as she thought of Aerion’s words. 

* * *

 

Aerion was legitimized in front of the small council, House Targaryen, House Martell, Mace Tyrell, Willas Tyrell, Robert and Catelyn Baratheon, Tyrion Lannister, Ashara Dayne and Ned Stark. As Rhaegar declared Aerion Blackfyre to be Aerion Targaryen, Elia saw the boy’s jaw twitch. He was trying not to smile. The imp beamed at his nephew while Ned Stark’s frown deepened as Rhaegar placed a small crown of gold upon his head.

“Lords and ladies,” began Rhaegar, standing before them with Aerion directly in front of him, kneeling, “my I present to you, my son, Prince Aerion Targaryen!”

Elia clapped politely with the others, but she felt uneasy brewing at the pits of her stomach. Viserys shook Aerion’s hand politely enough, Aegon kept his distance, while Rhaella hugged Aerion and kissed his cheek. Though old, she has retained some of the beauty Aerys beat out of her. Her face was creased and her eyes were warm and kind. Aerion looked surprised at Rhaella before smiling at her. She whispered something at him and he nodded. For a moment, Elia thought the boy was crying. 

* * *

The wind blew through the wind and Elia moved closer to Arthur, relishing in his warmth. She longed for the south, the real south of Westeros, Dorne.

“I want to go home,” whispered Arthur. He never took to the Red Keep. The memory of the last time they stayed here was still fresh in his mind

“There is still the wedding,” said Elia.

Arthur groaned. “The preparations are taking much more time than needed because the king wishes for it to be so grand… and Mariah will wed the prince and live here for her days to come.”

“She will be queen one day and her children will rule Westeros when our bones have turned to dust. She is not a child anymore, Arthur. And please, let us not have this discussion once again. We are here tonight, together, and I am sure we can find a better use for your pretty mouth?”

Arthur smiles at her. “Pretty little mouth?”

He kisses her as she giggles like a maiden. Even after all these years, she still ached for him. His lips was firm against her and tastes of sugar. His hand was sliding from her cheek to her neck and to the curve of her breast above the thin cloth covering her. He shifted above her and she felt his manhood stiffen when she rubbed against him. Her skin trembled against his touch and his mouth was slowly moving down towards her mound.

She helped guide him inside her as Arthur groaned. They had always fit together. His mouth was soon on hers against with his fingers pinching her nipples. She bit his neck and kissed the small wounds when he spilled his seed inside her. She shuddered for a moment before her head fell back, a smile gracing her face.

Arthur continued to kiss her neck as she hummed in delight.

“Satisfied, princess?”

“Thoroughly, ser.”   

Elia enjoyed the intimacy of her and her husband. She loved the warmth from his body and his hands always send a jolt through her body.

There was a knock on the door, loud and unexpected. Arthur paused for a moment before groaning and his head fell upon the pillow. Elia frowned. “What is it?” she called loudly.

Prince Lewyn Martell’s voice came through the door. “My niece, I have the Dowager Queen with me.”

Elia sighed as she put on a dressing gown while Arthur slipped on a heavy robe. Arthur lifted the bar from the door and her uncle and the once queen entered.

They have both aged considerably. But did not look unable. Lewyn was still skilled with a sword as he spared against Arthur the other day while Rhaella was a joy as she helped the plan the wedding of her grandson and Mariah. Lewyn’s hair was streaked with while Rhaella’s kept her hair held high.

“I am sorry to disturb you at such a time, princess,” said Rhaella. “But there has been a bird from Dorne. It is addressed to you, princess.”

Ser Lewyn held out the letter towards her and she broke the seal of her house, turning away from the others. Her brother’s handwriting was rushed.

_Elia,_

_I pray that you, Arthur and the children are well. But I do not bear good news. Mother’s condition worsens as she takes refuge at the Water Gardens. She refuses any more help from Caleotte, preferring to die rather than accept anymore. She is with Ellaria and the children, but I fear her time is approaching swiftly. I see no way in her accept any more remedies. I have tried everything. You must come before she goes._

_Oberyn._

Elia clutched the parchment tightly in her hands as tears began to fall upon her cheeks. She wiped them away as she turned and addressed the others.

“Mother’s condition has worsened,” she said, her voice hoarse. “She is at the Water Gardens and… might die soon.”

Arthur was soon at her side, holding her close and squeezing her shoulder. Lewyn pressed his eyes shut for a moment, taking in deep breaths as Rhaella said, “We must go to her, then.”

“Sorry, Your Grace?” asked Arthur.

“Well, you heard me, Ser Arthur,” said Rhaella. “We must leave for Dorne at once and we must be by her side when she… when must go to her. I will tell Rhaegar, he will understand, and Ser Lewyn will be allowed to go as well.”

“But the wedding,” said Elia, her voice cracking.

Rhaella pursed her lips. “Rhaegar will be less than willing to let the wedding be postponed any longer but we shall talk to the children about it then. But I am sure we can work this out.”

Elia looked at her and Lewyn, and then at Arthur.

“We will inform the children and go forth from there.” 

* * *

 

Mariah always remembered Arielle at the Water Gardens, urging her to play with the other children, from high-born to low.

“These are your people. Remember them in all your decisions. If they bend the knee to you, help them up and serve them bread and salt, or they will make the mistake of defying you again, and will never bend the knee.”

It almost seems as if her sickness was a bad dream. Her grandmother, stern faced and proud, was soon going to join the gods.

They broke fast with Rhaella Targaryen and Lewyn Martell. They had watched the children as Elia read the letter. Aliandria sat silently by the table while Daemon began paced the length of the room. Mariah stood by the window as the cool air brushed against her.

“What are we going to do?” asked Aliandria after a while.

Arthur began to say something but Mariah rushed on. “We shall push the wedding forward.”

Daemon and Lewyn looked outraged at the thought. Aliandria stared at her as Elia said, “What?”

“I want to push the wedding forward,” Mariah repeated, more clearly. “You can see me wed the prince before heading back to Dorne… and I do not wish to wait anymore.”

“There is no rush,” said Arthur, confused.

“I am done waiting. I am five-and-ten now and of age. I wish to marry Aegon.”

“Mariah – “Her mother’s voice was painfully soft to her ears.

“I cannot wait anymore!” she shrilled. She hated her voice and how her fingers intertwined in frustration. “I cannot stand the look on everyone’s face as they stare at me as if I am some sort of dog because of what happened at the tourney!”

Elia and Arthur stared at her for a long time before Elia turned towards Rhaella. The Dowager Queen looked at Mariah with such pity, the younger girl looked away from her.

“I shall speak with Rhaegar and Aegon,” said Rhaella, softly. “He will certainly see our way once Aegon agrees.”

She made her way towards Mariah, but Mariah held her hands up, putting space between her and everyone else.

“Please don’t,” she pleaded.

Rhaella Targaryen sighed before asking, “Is this what you want?”

“No,” Mariah said truthfully. “But I am mindful of my duty and I hear the whispers.”

Rhaella Targaryen sighed at the sight of her before looking at Elia. The room soon clears out as there is much to do. Mariah sits upon the table once more and imagines her family surround her as they did an hour ago. Arthur sat on her right while Aliandria on her left. Daemon beside Arthur and Elia in between Aliandria and Daemon. They had shared a cup of sugared milk.

“I wished to go back to Dorne and be a child once again, sitting upon Grandmother’s lap and Daemon chasing me through the castle. I wanted to go home and be with Aliandria when she becomes Princess of Dorne and when she becomes a mother. I want to be with grandmother, but I fear Aerion’s words. I fear I will be a stranger in my own home and I cannot… I cannot return when I am tempted to never see King’s Landing ever again and stowaway.”

She began to cry and she felt ashamed. She quickly wiped them away before getting up and compose herself. She must select a nice gown, Rhaegar will certainly make an announcement and many lords and ladies will wish her the best for her marriage.

Aliandria was standing near the door when Mariah turned around. She was anger at the sight of her preying sister.

“Dorne will always be your home,” said Aliandria, somber.

“Dorne will always be _your_ home,” snarled Mariah. “Dorne is your home, Daemon’s, Mother’s and Father’s. Your children will rule in your place and you will all ever forget I once ran through those walls as a babe.” Mariah’s voice grew soft as she remembered her father tossing her in the hot air, Elia reading her tails of knights and princesses, Oberyn playing with her and her cousins…

“Leave me at once and return to _your_ chambers,” said Mariah. “I shall find a nice gown for the announcement.”

The announcement was made and the preparations were now on rush. Aegon smiled at her and gave her some kind words about their coming nuptial while many noblemen and women congratulated her for marrying a fine man. The imp, Tyrion Lannister, had even wished her a good marriage filled with Targaryen children.

It was then when she finally allowed herself to glance at Aerion across the hall. He met her gaze and looked utterly betrayed. She looked away quickly as Lady Catelyn recounted her ceremony fondly for her.


	11. The Golden Bastard

When Aerion was a young child, he had wished for siblings. His uncle was always in his life no matter what occurs, mother and grandfather showed up when it pleased them, and barely knew Jaime. He wondered about Myrcella and Joanna, dead before their first nameday. They would have probably grown up with their mother’s beauty, not her nature. Or perhaps with their father’s looks instead. He had prayed once for a brother to spare off with and a sister to dote upon.

When he had heard about Aegon, he thought his wish had come true. A brother to play with, to fight battles with. He had hoped that they would look similar, that they could pass off as twins and get into trouble together. Aegon had smiled at him with he had won that tourney, had congratulated him, but his smile and good nature soon died.

They sat in uncomfortable silence in Aegon’s chambers. Rhaegar forced them to break fast together, wanting them to get along and understand the joy of having a brother. Viserys rolled his eyes at the declaration.

He had once heard of the song of ice and fire a long time ago, when he was a child. Aegon was all ice, unforgiving and cold and Aerion doubts he has any mercy, especially towards him. Perhaps he was the fire to Aegon’s ice.

His eyes were certainly icy as he met Aerion’s gaze. A small part of him wished he had the same Stark eyes.

“The… the wine is nice,” said Aerion, uncomfortable. He’s arrogant and cocky around many people, but turns shy and nervous with Aegon of all people.

“Dornish red wine,” offered Aegon coolly.

“Ahh…”

Aerion drowned the rest of his glass and poured more for himself, hoping the wine will numb him from this conversation. If only Rhaegar had any love or compassion for Cersei, or if he had known that Aerion was alive, he and Aegon would not be strangers.

“I saw you sparing with Ser Jonothor the other day,” said Aegon, watching him carefully. “You are quite skilled with a sword.”

Aerion wanted to smile. “Thank you, Prince Aegon. You are quite good yourself with a lance.”

“I am better with a sword,” warned Aegon.

Aerion grimaced at the tone but pushed it no further as he took another sip of the wine. He understood the implication clearly. He curses Rhaegar Targaryen for making them do this. It was painful.

“Why are you here?” continued Aegon.

“Our father has ask us to –“

“No,” snapped Aegon. “Why are you here in King’s Landing? Why did you decide to show yourself to us? What do you hope to gain? I want the truth, Aerion. I don’t want to hear any more of your lies.”

_I have never once lied_ thought Aerion, frowning. He had been honest when he was questioned about his life and what _he_ was truly doing at the Keep.

“Very well, you want the truth? Here it is. The truth of the matter is that the truth does not matter anymore, does it? If I tell you I have been waiting to meet Rhaegar since the time I was a boy, it would not matter to you, would it? If I tell you I have always wanted a brother and sister, you would not care at all. You want to hear what you want to hear, do you not? You do not care what the truth really is, you already despise me for everything that I am –“

“Have you really wanted to meet him?” interrupted Aegon, puzzled. “Rhaegar. Father. Have you really wanted to meet him since you were a child?”

Aerion stopped for a moment and thought about it, thought about the time he had heard of his father. “I thought he was some sort of… god. I built him up in my head, thinking that my father was almighty and powerful. The Warrior and the Father come again. I wanted him to love me, I wanted him to be proud of my studies, I wanted him to call me ‘son’ and when my mother told me of him… I thought he was coming to take me with him back to this castle.” He paused for a moment, thinking back to the cells he was kept in, the darkness surrounding him. “But I was thrown into the dungeon for two months because they wanted to beat the excitement out of me. That my father did not want me or need me, that he did not care for me. They wanted me to feel as though my dreams were rubbish. Is that want you wanted to hear, Aegon?”

“You have no right to call me that,” snapped Aegon. “And you cannot expect me to believe –“

“Believe what you want,” retorted Aerion. “I must be in my cups but I am telling you the truth. I have no reason to lie to you when all I have ever truly wanted was to get to know my father and his family.”

He drowned the rest of the wine and filled his cup again as Aegon said, “He once yelled at me when I asked him about my mother. He never once spoke of her, refusing to even acknowledge her existence. My grandmother told me he had loved her but refuses to speak of her. He acted as though she did not mean anything to him, that she was just another dead girl. He sent me away to Dragonstone after my fifth nameday with Grandmother Rhaella, Viserys, Dany, and a Kingsguard because I looked too much like ‘ _her’_. I still remember the way he said ‘ _her’_ , as though it was a foul word.” He paused for a moment. “He did not want to talk about her because it pained him, but he did not know that not having her around pained me just as much. I wanted my mother as much as I wanted my uncle. I used to call Grandmother Rhaella ‘mother’ for years on end before Rhaegar yelled at me that she was not Lyanna.”

Aerion thought of Rhaegar screaming at little Aegon because Rhaella Targaryen was not Lyanna Stark. “I am sorry to hear that.”

“I do not need your pity.” Aegon was crossed. “I do not want it.”

“I do not pity you after one memory,” denied Aerion. “But if we are going to be honest with each other, I will tell you more. Even if you do not wish to hear it. I have always wanted a brother. I had hoped to meet you as well, wondering if you were as valent as our father –“Aegon snorted at the proclamation. “I was young and foolish, obviously.” 

Aegon clenched his jaws. “I had always wanted a brother as well. I always imagined what would have happened if Edwyn had survived, and if my mother had as well. I imaged her to be beautiful and kind.”

Aerion smiled. “She would have been better than my own mother. Your mother would have loved you.”

“Lady Lannister does not love you?” asked Aegon, scoffing at the thought. “I hardly believe that. She seems very protective of you.”

“In her own way she does,” admitted Aerion. “But she does not love me the way a mother should. After all, I am her bastard son, born out of King Rhaegar’s false love towards her. When she looks at me, she sees the man who only saw her as some sort of vessel for a babe. They all do. On my tenth nameday, she began to attack me, cursing me to all ends, wishing death upon me and my family. She called for my head, screaming and crying and drunk. She thought I was Rhaegar Targaryen.” He briefly touched his chest for a moment before saying, “Grandfather Tywin sent Tyrion and me away after that incident, telling us to go wherever we wish to, sail around the world, he did not care, but to leave and not come back until he told us so. I did not miss her.” 

Aegon frowned. “If you are lying to me –“

“Everything I say is the truth.” He cheeks became hot. “I even once prayed to the gods to make me Lyanna Stark’s child, asking them to make this all a horrible nightmare. I wanted a family to love me for who I was, and not just some tool to be used against _Rhaegar_ ,” he spat out that man’s name. “I hate him.”

Aegon sighed for a moment, looking much older than what he really was. “You are not the only one, Aerion. I heard about the wat he treated your mother after my own died. I do not blame her for wanting to strike him. He has never been the king he was raised to be. He has treated Grandmother Rhaella with little to no respect. She survived The Mad King and she will survive him as well. He does not understand Viserys and his need to be his own lord, and not have a castellan be in his place. And he stuffs Dany in a dress, sending her off to the Tyrells and not seeing the iron within her. She was made for adventure and freedom. I doubt she is getting that under Mace Tyrell’s eyes.” He offered Aerion a small smile, no matter how strained it was. “I suppose our circumstances would be different if our father had not dismissed your mother like a kitchen drab.”

Aerion clenched his goblet before nodding. “I suppose so. I might have been raised at the Keep, alongside you, brother.”

“I hardly think so.” Aegon smiled at him and Aerion’s brother knew what he was done. He was getting on Aerion’s nerves.

“No? Why, brother, I have hardly done anything to you, except for the horrible incident in which I was born a bastard, something out of my control. I cannot help that I was born a bastard. I cannot help who my father and mother is. Tell me, are you rude to all bastards, or is it just me?”

Aegon laughed lightly. “Come now, Aerion. You must not take things too close to heart. I was merely jesting with you. If we cannot laugh together, then what is the point of you being here?” He then stood up, a smile on his handsome face. “Come now, let us spar. I want to see how good you truly are with a sword in your hand.” When Aerion hesitated, Aegon said, “Have you never wanted a brother to spar with? Or was that all some lie your mother thought you?”

Aegon was swifter and faster than the other men Aerion has trained with in the past. The sound of their swords clinking and clashing together in the air was music to Aerion’s ears. He wanted to win and he knew Aegon did as well. He had to beat Aegon. He had to. He had to prove he was more than just a bastard. He had to prove that he was worth being around. He had to prove that he was just as good as his brother. He did not want to be sent away. Not again. He cannot let that happen.

His back was then on the ground, dirt covering his eyes and his hair, and Aegon was standing above him, sword dangerously close to his nose. Aerion clenched his jaw and his hands, cursing himself for failing, but then he smiled as Aegon withdrew his sword.

“You are good with a sword,” said Aerion, sitting up and looking up at Aegon. “You will make a fine king one day.”

Aegon looked at him in puzzlement before smiling as well. “I do know what to make of you. You are a complicated man.”

Aerion shrugged. “I suppose I am.” He then stood up. “But I suppose all bastards are.”

“You are good with a sword,” admitted Aegon.

Pride rose up in Aerion’s chest. “Thank you.”

Aegon looked at him, his grey eyes moving up and down Aerion, as though still trying to decide his mind. “We have spent time together. Our father will be happy once I report to him our day.” He hesitated before leaving swiftly and Aerion wondered if Aegon noticed that he said ‘our.’ 

* * *

 

Tyrion Lannister was the closest thing he had to a father. He was the only man he truly ever trusted in the world and Aerion would lay down his life for his uncle. So it was only natural for Aerion to go to Tyrion in a time of confusion.

“Did you ever doubt Grandfather’s plans?” he asked bluntly late that night.

Tyrion looked up from his book, half his face glowing with the candle light, his black eye glowing with the fire. He regarded Aerion closely for a moment. “I never once questioned Father.”

“But did you ever have any doubt?”

“Naturally,” said Tyrion. “The plan, the idea and the history behind it is fine in theory. But I doubt the execution could go as flawless as he plans it to be. But, alas, I am just a humble servant to you and Father.”

Aerion glared at him. “You are more than that to me, Tyrion.”

Tyrion smiled at him sincerely. “I know. I had never thought to ask you, I suppose, but what do you think of all of this?”

Aerion shrugged. “I never thought much. I just… I just did as I was told. I believed their words.”

Tyrion nodded. “They have never cared for what you truly thought. And neither have I. I apologize, Aerion, but now I do want to know now. Tell me, what is your take in all of this?”

“Rhaegar is not want I expected him to be. I thought of him as a monster incarnated but the man is just pathetic and only plays at being king. Viserys is trying to be a good man, Daenerys is kind and Rhaella is wonderful. I even expected Aegon to be… He is not what they told me he was. He has been wronged by our father just as much as I have and I do not wish ill upon him. I understand why Mother and Grandfather want to exact revenge upon Rhaegar. I still feel the need to make him suffer as we have, but… rebelling against the man will not do us good. I cannot image Aegon taking up arms against his father.”

Tyrion nodded. “Father’s plan has always been to make you his heir while Cersei wishes for you to be king –“

“Mother wants be to king,” interrupted Aerion. “Not me.”

“Well, Father is slightly more practical, at the least,” said Tyrion dryly. “Cersei would be a terrible ruler. She’s too greedy and all wildfire. Revenge against the king is not as practical as they wished for and neither is asking Aegon to usurper his father. I believe they expected the prince to have the Targaryen madness and the wildness of a wolf.”

“But he only wants his approval,” said Aerion.

“As do you,” said Tyrion.

Aerion looked shocked for a moment before the words sunk in. “He and his approval can truly go to hell for all I care.”

Tyrion snorted. “Oh, Aerion, you do care and you best not try to hide it anymore.”

“The rest of them are good and they do not deserve this. They don’t deserve Rhaegar or Tywin or Cersei or me. They should live out their lives in peace for once. We should just leave and never come back again. We can go back to Braavos or Pentos, or the Summer Isles.”

“Rhaegar Targaryen will not let you go and neither will your mother. She has been waiting for this a long time. To humiliate and hurt Rhaegar the way he once did so to her. You are the only one she has that will be able to do this for her.”

“But I don’t want to!” yelled Aerion, standing up and scattering the plate of fruits in front of them. Tyrion was unfazed. “I don’t care! I’m tired of being told that it _has_ to be me, that I am supposed to avenge my mother and our family, that I am the one to do this and that and I have no say in it whatsoever! No one cares about what I what, what I need, what I think! No, I am just some brainless soldier in service to the good Lord Lannister and his sweet daughter, Lady Cersei. They do not care about my wellbeing, so why does it have to be one who leads the charge upon King Rhaegar?”

“It does not,” stated Tyrion. “You are free to do as you wish. But, honestly, Aerion, what do you really want to do? You have come so far in your life, you are now in your father’s castle and now is legitimate son. What do you want to do?”

“I just want to be my own person,” replied Aerion. “And not the one Cersei and Tywin wishes me to be.”

“Well, unfortunately, they have defined your life thus far,” Tyrion said meekly. “But you can change that now. So, nephew, your own faith is finally in your hands, what do you want to do? Where do you want to go from here?”

Aerion said nothing, preferring to stare at the floor with his jaw clenched. Tyrion stood up from his seat and patted Aerion’s hand before leaving the chamber towards his own, leaving Aerion to his own thoughts. 

* * *

 

The wedding between Aegon and Mariah was a grand affair, grander than anything Aerion had ever seen before. He stood in the back of the Great Sept of Baelor, watching Mariah walk towards Aegon, smiling at him kindly, and recite the words the High Septon gave them. It was a wedding fit for a princess such as Mariah. She was beautiful in her gown of white and blue with her hair curled behind her back and jewels tangled with each lock. Aegon was certainly handsome as he wrapped Mariah in a Targaryen cloak too big for her shoulders. He looked away when Aegon placed a small kiss upon Mariah’s mouth as the lords and ladies cheered around him.

He sat beside Tyrion and Theon Greyjoy at the feast, ignoring their conversations about wine and women, preferring to spend his time with his cup. He looked towards Rhaella’s kind face, smiling as she spoke with Elia and Aerion wished he was somewhere in the Free Cities, anywhere but in this damned hall.

Someone had called for the bedding and Aerion truly wanted to punch Theon Greyjoy as he helped the other men pull a blushing Mariah from her chair, already grabbing at her gown. He slammed his cup on the table and excused himself as the court of young ladies helped Aegon out of this clothes.

He could still hear them cheering as he was walking away from the hall. Navigating the halls of the Keep was harder drunk and he had wished Tyrion was with him. He was much better at being a drunk fool than he was. The world was spinning around him and his body felt too heavy and yet so empty for himself.

Suddenly, someone placed their hand on his shoulder and Aerion was jolted back to this world. He turned his head to see Ser Lewyn Martell, looking at him with a sober face.

“Your grandmother sent me,” he said. “I will escort you back to your room, Prince Aerion.”

Aerion shrugged his shoulders off the man and said, “Do not call me that. Prince.”

Ser Martell raised an eyebrow. “Very well, then.” He grasped Aerion’s elbow lightly and led him back to his chambers in the Maidenvault. Aerion tripped on his feet a few times, but Lewyn Martell’s grip was made of steel. When they finally reached his chambers, Aerion slumped against his door and slid to the ground, mumbling something incoherently as Lewyn sighed. He closed his eyes as sleep began to overtake his body.

His dreams were of dragons roaming the sky and screams of people too small and _so much blood_. He saw a small maiden sitting upon the dragon, grander than most knights. Aegon the Conqueror would quiver before her. She looked upon Aerion and opened her mouth, a shrill erupted from her and he woke up with a start.

Ser Lewyn was still there, reading a book quietly in the corner. He looked up as Aerion groaned loudly, his head pounding. The knight handed him a goblet of honey milk and watched as Aerion drank the whole thing.

“You cannot have her,” Lewyn said immediately as Aerion placed the goblet on the bedside table. “Not like this. You love her but you cannot hope to have her.”

Aerion knew what he was talking about. Mariah. It was always her. But what did he say to the knight before he passed out?

“I loved a princess once as well, but she was well beyond my grasp. She was meant for someone else and I promise myself that I would protect her until my last dying breath. Tell me, Aerion Targaryen, are you willing to do that for the princess you love?”

Aerion was confused. “What did I tell you?”

Lewyn Martell shrugged. “You merely said something stupid under your breath, as all drunk idiots do. I know you love her, as I have loved another princess one.”

Aerion searched for the right words before finally saying, “Rhaella.”

The knight nodded. “Aye. She and my sister were as close as could be, and I followed Arielle to King’s Landing when I was a young lad much like yourself. There was never a woman as beautiful as Rhaella Targaryen. Compared to her, everyone else surrounding her was nothing more than a fishmaid. Many lords and ladies had thought Ser Bonifer Hasty was the subject of her love. But they did not know of us. I promised I would protect her in the Keep while Bonifer gave up his lance for the Faith.”

He then sunk down to Aerion’s eye level, staring down at the young boy with great intensity. “You can love her, I will say your feeling are invalid, but you cannot marry her, not like this. But you can protect her. From the court, from war, and from Rhaegar. Are you ready to do that for her?”

Aerion did not know what Prince Lewyn was implying, but he was willing to accept wholeheartedly. 

* * *

 

As he expected, letter from his family came at once, in a hurry and with a fury. Tywin Lannister spoke of betrayal and removing him from his family once and for all, while his dear mother cursed his manhood. Tyrion was skeptical about his decision at first, but found the letters quite amusing.

“Ladies at court will weep today,” Rhaella said good-naturally as she straightened his collar and shoulders. “A young and handsome man like yourself taking vows to never marry a beautiful maiden? Oh, how they will weep for you.”

Aerion smiled at her. “Grandmother…”

“Well, I suppose you can still bed some, the gods know how men do have _needs_.”

His face turned red at the sight of Rhaella Targaryen speaking so bluntly. “I will not regret this. I will be protecting my family until the end of my days, and what else could a young man want?”

“A pretty wife, a few children and land to call his own,” stated Rhaella. “But I suppose knighthood forever will suffice.” She then kissed his cheek. “I shall see you at the Sept.” She left the room with Ser Lewyn in tow. The older man gave Aerion a small nod.

Aerion stared at the looking glass. He was in his best clothes, his hair was in a disarray around his face. He was clearly nervous, but he was going to protect them all by doing this. Lord Tywin cannot use him anymore from here, not after he makes his vows in front of the gods and everyone in court. His mother will not be able to sink her claws in him anymore. They will all be gone from his life. A clean slate. A new beginning. A fresh start and this time he will do this right.

The chamber doors opened and Aerion saw Mariah standing there, unhappy and beautiful. Her hair was unbound today and she was wearing a pale purple gown.

“I have come to congratulate you, Ser Aerion,” she said somberly. “I hope you find some sort of happiness with your white cloak. After all, what boy has not dreamt of serving his king, and in your circumstance, your father and your family, for life? I wish you the best of luck and hope that your service is long and fulfilling.”

She turned to walk away as Aerion quietly whispered, “Mariah.”

“Don’t!” she snapped, not turning to look at his face. He could hear her crying softly. “Don’t you dare…”

She left in a hurry and Aerion tried his best to keep his mind on the ceremony and going through with it. He had to. He had wished they kissed once more before all of this happened, but once would not have been enough. It never would have been.

The Great Sept was crowded with members of the royal family stood in the front, while King Rhaegar and Prince Aegon stood in front of him, in front of The Warrior. Aerion lifted his small crown and Rhaegar took it away from him, just as he once placed it upon his golden hair.

It was Aegon who wrapped his shoulders in the white cloak, and it was Aegon who he recited the vows to. He could detect some sort of triumphed happiness in his brother as Rhaegar said, “I hereby declare Prince Aerion Targaryen to be Ser Aerion Targaryen, a member of the royal Kingsguard! May his service to the royal family, and his family, be long and well-deserving!”

The Sept erupted in applause at the declaration. Aerion turned around as everyone cheered. He was not doing this because of Rhaegar, the gods know that man does not deserve him, he can lie and say that he was going this because of Aegon, or maybe even Rhaella. A small part of him believes that maybe he joined the Kingsguard because of Mariah, just as Ser Lewyn suggested. Though she was a small part of his decision, he was truly doing this because this was the first decision he ever made for himself. Not for Tywin or Cersei or even Tyrion. His own decision. His own life.

Rhaella Targaryen beamed with pride and knowledge. Lewyn Martell whispered something in her ear and she nodded, looking as though she knew all along. Elia Martell and her husband were polite enough, but the princess looked at her newlywed daughter. Aerion’s violet eyes followed and saw Mariah’s chin tremble as well as her hands shake.

He would have gone to her, thrown away the white cloak and promise her the whole world just to see her smile again. He was willing to give up everything for her. But she is now married to Aegon, and he made his vows. They are not children playing at love. They have duties to attend to.

And if he said that enough, to himself and to Mariah, it would finally be true.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the next chapter will be much like this one, but in Mariah's POV and her wedding and the wedding night, and moments she has with Aegon.   
> Does anyone like Aerion?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope you all liked it and hopefully not too many grammatical mistakes.


End file.
